The Colour of Her Knickers
by Davesmom
Summary: COMPLETE...(books 1-4) Ginny is ready to start her sixth year. She's over Harry and feeling confident that this year will be her best, yet. How wrong can the first day of school go? She's about to find out. FINISHED! Rating upgraded for mention of v
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to the talented, wonderful, and fantastic JK Rowling, whom we all wish would write book 5 faster. Jessica, Rose, and any other original characters are mine. 'One Fine Day' belongs to 20th Century Fox and (I guess,) director Michael Hoffman. Plot is mine, mistakes in spelling are mine. The title was shameless paraphrased from the wonderful Piers Anthony's Xanth novel, "The Color of her Panties", but that's probably as far as the similarity goes. (It's been years since I read that book, so if there are more similarities, my apologies to Mr. Anthony and no plagiarism or borrowing was intended).  
  
A/N: One down and two to go. This one was already mostly written, so the next chapters will follow every few days, even if it's a pathetic story. Only two half finished D/G's still on my 'puter, then I can concentrate on writing the great American novel (or just a decent short story that might get published in Ladie's Home Journal or Family Circle)!  
  
The Colour of Her Knickers  
  
Ginny Weasley was up early, eager to get started. Today would be the first day of her sixth year at Hogwarts! And this year was going to be different from her other years; she was no longer infatuated with Harry Potter! She would NOT spend the entire year letting him dictate whether it was a good day or a bad day by merely either noticing or not noticing her. Not that he'd done so on purpose, but Ginny wasn't going to waste any more time waiting for him. And, maybe this year she would decide to go out with one of the other boys who had tried to gain her attention in past years. If they hadn't all given her up as a lost cause, that is.  
  
Ginny grinned as she sat up in her small bed. If they'd given her up, she'd just have to convince them that she was, in fact, available this year. Ginny glanced across to the small cot that had been set up in her room, where Hermione Granger lay, still sleeping. The long, bushy chestnut hair was spread enticingly across the pillow and Ginny was thankful Ron wasn't here to go 'ga-ga' over Hermione and start baby talking to her, as the couple had been disgustingly prone to do lately. Ginny mused that a few years ago she would have been on the cot, and Hermione, her brother's girlfriend and one of Harry's best friends, would have been sleeping in Ginny's bed. But Hermione had lost 'guest' status some time ago, and could now be treated like visiting family. Indeed, Ginny generally thought of her as a sister most of the time. They weren't the best of friends at school, but whenever Hermione was visiting, Ginny felt she could confide almost anything to the older girl.  
  
Unfortunately, Ginny also felt just a little jealous of the older girl. Not because of her intelligence or that she had Ron and Harry for friends, but because Hermione was what Ginny had always wanted to be: pretty. Not that Ginny was ugly, of course, but her flaming Weasley hair, longish nose, pale skin and freckles were more 'striking' than pretty, or even cute. And she'd inherited her father's height and slight build so at five feet and just under ten inches she was hardly what anyone's idea of 'cute' might be! And where Hermione was softly rounded and curved, Ginny was still angular and, well, unendowed. At least that was how Hermione put it. Actually, Ginny figured her one really great feature was her dark brown eyes. Her eyes were large, the brows well-shaped and the lashes dark enough to not need the assistance of mascara. If only the women in her society wore veils; then Ginny's best asset would be enhanced. With a small snort, she shrugged to herself for being so picky. Just last night, when she was bemoaning all her faults, Hermione had rallied Ginny with the list of boys who had cried on her shoulder over Ginny's infatuation with Harry. She grinned again. Hermione was right, of course. Despite what she thought were her flaws, some of the boys at least, had been interested.  
  
Ginny threw back her sheets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "C'mon, Hermione," she called, picking up her pillow and tossing it at her friend's head. "Rise and shine!"  
  
Hermione grumbled and craned her neck to see the alarm clock on the table. "Bugger!" she hissed in a sleepy voice. "It's still only five a. m.! We don't have to leave for two hours!"  
  
Hermione then grabbed Ginny's pillow and buried her head under it.  
  
Ginny shook her head, still grinning. At least she would get the shower and the hot water first for once. As she gathered her shower things, she remembered another reason to look forward to this year: new clothes!  
  
Ginny showered in leisure and then wrapped her terrycloth robe about her. She wrapped her towel around her head and padded quietly back to her room. She moved to the chair where she'd laid her clothes out the night before, reverently touching the new robe, blouse, and skirt. Even though she had been the only girl in the family, she didn't often get new things either. Usually her stuff was handed down from female cousins or bought second hand. But this year, with only Ron and Ginny to provide for, and with Dad getting paid a percentage in the twins' gag shop in return for his initial investment, the Weasleys had been able to get the two youngest new robes, uniforms and casual clothes. They'd still had to get used book, but Ginny didn't care about that. Who cared if your books were tattered? But there was one thing Ginny had wanted that Mum had flatly refused to get her. She'd wanted nice, pretty knickers.  
  
Her mother had looked at her assessingly, then had looked out the kitchen window to where Ron, Harry and the twins, down for the weekend, were tossing a Quaffle around. Then her mother's normally open, friendly face became very rigid and decidedly unfriendly.  
  
"And what, pray tell, young lady, would you be wanting with 'pretty' knickers? What's wrong with the nice cotton ones you always get?"  
  
Ginny felt herself blush at her mother's obvious assumption. "Good grief, Mum," she whispered, mortified at the thought and at the possibility that one of the boys might hear the conversation. "It's not like THAT! I just want something pretty, to make me feel, you know, feminine!"  
  
Her mother was still looking suspiciously at her but only said, "Well, that's too bad. We haven't any money to waste on things like fancy knickers. Honestly! The idea!"  
  
Her mum had turned back to making preparations for dinner, still grumbling about ungrateful children and daughters who wanted to grow up too fast. Ginny slunk out of the kitchen, feeling relieved to have gotten off so easily. Who would have thought her mum would have a fit about new knickers? Ginny had plodded up the stairs and into her room. Before she could throw herself on her bed and have a good cry over the general injustice of the world and parents in particular, Hermione rose from the cot she'd been sitting at.  
  
"Er, Gin, I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with your mum," she began, looking torn between amusement and embarrassment.  
  
Ginny glanced at the heat register set into the floor and nodded. "Yeah, I know. The vent comes up direct from the stove. I used to listen in on them all the time."  
  
She sighed and flopped onto her bed. "But it's so unfair!" she wailed.  
  
Hermione came over and put a sisterly arm around Ginny's shoulders. "Yeah, it's unfair," she agreed.  
  
They sat quietly for a few minutes, then Hermione removed her arm. "Uh, Ginny," she began hesitantly.  
  
"What?" Ginny said irritably. Hermione was interrupting a very satisfying bout of self-pity.  
  
"Er, I could, uh, oh, never mind!" Hermione got off the bed and walked toward the door.  
  
"Wait! You could what?" Ginny asked suddenly.  
  
She looked at Hermione's face, seeing the same expression the older girl wore whenever Ron or Harry convinced her to do something against the rules. "What, Hermione? Tell me!"  
  
Hermione bit her lip nervously and started to wring her hands.  
  
"Oh, goodness," she said quietly. "I hate going behind your mum's back. But I know what it's like to want something pretty, even if no one else will see it!"  
  
Ginny was off the bed and grabbing Hermione's hands in a second. "What!?" she demanded, her voice low and urgent. "Can you help me? Please?"  
  
"We-ell," Hermione said in an agonized voice. "I might be able to, but I don't have much money! And it would mean leaving Diagon Alley when we go shopping tomorrow!"  
  
Ginny almost jumped up and down in excitement. "Money's no problem!" she insisted. "I've still got all the money the boys sent me for my birthday!"  
  
She hurried to the little ceramic bank she kept on her dresser and removed the stopper. Then she carried it to her bed and began to pour out the contents. Several coins spilled from the bank until she had a small mound of knuts and sickles, with the odd galleon thrown in there. She looked up hopefully at Hermione.  
  
"Will that be enough?"  
  
Hermione finally sighed and smiled. "I'm sure it will be plenty," she'd said, resigned.  
  
Hermione had come up with a plausible excuse to detach both girls from the rest of the Weasleys and Harry. She'd said there were some 'girly' things she wanted to buy and she wanted Ginny's help. Mrs. Weasley was still giving her daughter and Harry questioning looks, but seemed satisfied that neither was interested in the other. So, with the parental blessing, Hermione dragged Ginny away from Clan Weasley and toward Gringotts.  
  
"I'll have to exchange your money for you," she'd told Ginny. "I already have an account there, and they're used to seeing me."  
  
After changing the wizarding money for Muggle money, the girls hurried to the Leaky Cauldron. They removed their robes, revealing the tee shirts and jeans each had worn. Draping the robes over their arms, they stepped into Muggle London.  
  
The whole trip had been exhilarating. Ginny had seldom been in the Muggle section except to go to Diagon Alley or the train station. Hermione had led her only a few blocks away where there were small shops and boutiques of all types. Some of the items displayed in the large glass windows were familiar, like baked goods, clothing, and even a pet store. But some of the items were beyond Ginny. One shop had dozens of black boxes of varying shapes and sizes, all with buttons and numbers and dials on them. Hermione called them 'stereos, CD players, and boom boxes' and said they variations of the radio the Weasley family used to listen to the Wizarding Wireless Network. Another shop had large, colourful posters plastered in the windows with pictures of actors and actresses. Hermione said it was a video rental shop and you could rent motion pictures to watch at home without having to go to the cinema. Since Ginny had only a vague idea of what she was talking about, she only nodded. Until she saw a poster with the words 'One Fine Day' across one of the posters over the picture of a dark haired man laughing with a blonde woman.  
  
"Hermione," Ginny had squealed, grabbing the other girl's arm. "That man looks just like Professor Lupin!"  
  
Hermione glanced at the poster, then looked more closely. "Hey, you're right! I never noticed before. Professor Lupin looks like George Clooney!"  
  
The man in the poster, who didn't move (a fact that had disconcerted Ginny at first) indeed had the same sunken, sad eyes and dark hair with just a touch of gray throughout, especially at the temples. Shaking her head, Ginny allowed Hermione to drag her away, telling her they couldn't take all day.  
  
Finally, they stopped in front of a boutique that had several very daring slips and brassieres on display in the front window. There was a discrete curtain behind the display so the interior if the shop was hidden from public view.  
  
"Well, here we are," Hermione said firmly.  
  
Ginny swallowed nervously and nodded. Now it came to it, she wasn't sure she could just stroll into a store and purchase lacy knickers! Hermione grabbed her arm, though, and dragged her to the door.  
  
"We might get caught going back to Diagon Alley," she muttered. "And I'm not getting in Dutch with your mum for nothing!"  
  
The girls had entered the store, and Ginny felt like she was in heaven. There were undergarments of every description! From brassieres to camisoles, from plain cotton knickers to sexy, silky little wisps of fabric with only a string up the back to cover the bum! Ginny knew there were shops of this sort off of Diagon Alley, but she'd never been able to venture into one, and she was more likely to meet someone she knew there than here. Hermione led her to a section where the wares were displayed on small hangers and came in every colour from white to black to metallic green to animal prints and every conceivable colour in between. Ginny blushed and backed away from some particularly garish zebra striped items and moved toward a display of pretty pastel 'briefs'.  
  
"I thought you wanted something different," Hermione asked, although her relieved expression belied her words.  
  
"I do, but I'd feel like the 'whore of Babylon' in those things," Ginny admitted, gesturing to the other display.  
  
"Good!" Hermione said with feeling. "If your mum catches us, she's going to think these things are mine, and she might wonder exactly what Ron and I are going to be up to!"  
  
Ginny giggled nervously, then moved on to a display that read 'French Cut'. She looked at the price tag, a large affair with a female model wearing the said 'French Cut' knickers while discretely folding her arms across her bare bosom. The model was extremely thin, very much like Ginny, herself. But the garment was flattering, all the same. The cut actually made her look like she had full hips!  
  
"These!" Ginny said, determinedly.  
  
Hermione looked at the price tag and shrugged. "At least they're decent. And you could buy four or five pairs and still have money left over."  
  
Ginny gasped! Four or five pairs! Maybe she could find a bra to match, or one of the full slips like she'd seen in the window! With Hermione's help, she selected four pairs in different colours, then, daringly, added one black pair. Hermione added up the prices, and pulled Ginny to the display of bras. She was able to get two, from the same maker, that matched two of the pairs of knickers. Hermione frowned.  
  
"You know, Gin, if I helped out a bit, I think maybe you could manage one slip. Want to look?"  
  
Ginny didn't need to be asked twice. She found a soft, silky slip with adjustable straps and a bit of lace at the bottom. It would come just short of the hem of all her school skirts, but possibly peek out when she sat. She mentioned this to Hermione who, feeling more comfortable now that Ginny had chosen pretty but sensible items, laughed.  
  
"Of course it will peek out when you sit. That's the attraction! Just that suggestion of more will drive the boys mad!"  
  
Ginny blushed, but took the slip and everything else up to the cashier. The woman at the counter looked carefully at both girls before lifting a brow. "School shopping?" she asked in a satirical voice.  
  
Ginny and Hermione looked guiltily away until the woman chuckled. "Don't worry, loves. If you'd chosen some of that other lot, I might give you a hard time. But this," she gestured to Ginny's purchases. "Innocent fun, yeah?"  
  
As the girls hurried back to the Leaky Cauldron, Ginny marveled at their luck. "Imagine! Everything at twenty per cent off! The ice cream's on me!"  
  
Coming back to the present, Ginny blushed again as she moved her new robe and uniform off her new, pretty underthings. They hadn't been caught, and now all the items except what she was wearing today were buried deep in her trunk. She touched the knickers once more, marveling again at how soft they were, despite not being silk.  
  
"Synthetic fabrics," Hermione had explained. "Inexpensive, wears great, lasts forever and doesn't fade. Only problem is some people are allergic to them. Not you, though," she added quickly. "You've worn rubber gloves in Potions, right? No problem, then."  
  
Ginny heard her mother stirring in her parents' bedroom and dressed quickly. It wouldn't do to have her walk in on Ginny, as she was likely to do, and find her new underthings.  
  
The Hogwarts Express left from Platform 9 ¾ exactly on time and was soon chugging along smoothly. Ginny had left Ron, Harry and Hermione to find her own friends and a compartment. The train seemed strangely empty, and she was easily able to get a compartment for herself and her four friends, girls from both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. When they'd been traveling for some time, one of the girls, Rose Thornhill from Ravenclaw, finally commented on the lack of students.  
  
"I know," Ginny agreed quietly. "My dad says that lots of families just up and left the country. Worried about You-Know-Who!"  
  
Jessica Mowbry, another Gryffindor, said, "My dad says it's mostly just the Slytherins not coming back to Hogwarts. He says they all transferred to Drumstrang!"  
  
"Good!" Sally Hawthorn, the other Ravenclaw declared. "Pack 'em all off to where they belong. We don't need 'em here, anyway."  
  
Ginny bit her lip. How could she tell them that the sorting hat had quietly mentioned that she might do well in Slytherin, herself? And her mum and dad had some friends, not many, but some, who had been in Slytherin? She knew most of the witches and wizards that went bad were from that house, but that didn't mean all of them were evil. Not any more than it meant all Gryffindors were paragons of virtue and honor. Just look at Peter Pettigrew! But she couldn't tell them about Peter, either, because she only knew about their former rat and his real identity from careful eavesdropping when Ron and his friends didn't know she was listening. But she could and would tell them that that kind of blind prejudice was just as bad as the anti-Muggle filth lots of Slytherins spouted. Before she could, though, there was a knock at their compartment door.  
  
The old witch who pushed the refreshment card opened the door. "Anything off the cart, dearies?"  
  
The girls made their purchases and settled back for the remainder of the long trip to Hogwarts. Ginny had just enough left from her shopping spree and assault on Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor to get a pumpkin juice and a chocolate frog. The previous topic, the lack of Slytherins, had been dropped for the more interesting topic of boys.  
  
They were warming to their subject when the door to the compartment opened and Seamus Finnegan stuck his head in.  
  
"Hullo, girls. Miss me?" Seamus beamed at the girls and they all smiled back.  
  
Seamus wasn't handsome, exactly, but he was funny, outgoing and great company. And he had the gift of making whoever he was with feel special. Rose scooted over to make room for him, drawing instant protests from the other girls.  
  
"Not to worry, ladies," he assured them with a smile. "There's plenty of me to go round!"  
  
Ginny grinned at his antics. She was pretty much immune to his charm, being in the same house as he was, but she still enjoyed his company. Soon they were all chatting companionably, not noticing the passing of time. Seamus was keeping the girls amused with what were probably highly exaggerated tales of how he spent his summer, when he suddenly leaned forward.  
  
"Look!" he said, reaching into the pocket of his robe. He pulled out a small box and held it for them all to see.  
  
"I caught this little bugger just as it was about to sink its fangs in me! Small, but deadly, is this little creature."  
  
The girls were staring raptly at the box, which looked for all the world just like an ordinary box, about the size of a fist. Ginny, alone, seemed to notice the mischief in his eyes, and started to back away, but too late.  
  
Seamus tore the lid off and several fake snakes leaped out, causing the girls to squeal and jump in alarm. Jessica jumped back so fast, she knocked Ginny's pumpkin juice out of her hands and right onto her new robes and blouse. Now Ginny jumped up and squealed! Her new clothes!  
  
Seamus' laughter dried up abruptly when he saw the tears in Ginny's eyes. Ginny looked down at her sodden robe and plucked it away from her sadly.  
  
"Ginny, I'm sorry! I didn't expect--," he started, but she cut him off.  
  
"It's nothing, Seamus, don't worry about it!" she said, her voice quavery. "I'll just pop into the loo and wash up."  
  
Ginny fled before anyone could stop her. She knew it was stupid to cry over something so minor, but she'd wanted, just once, to show up at school looking just as great as everyone else. Now she'd show up stained and wrinkled and could only thank the fates that most of the Slytherins really were absent. At least she wouldn't have to listen to any of their snide remarks. And tomorrow she'd be clean and pressed and she'd pretend this hadn't happened. Then she remembered her new bra!  
  
Rushing into the small bathroom, she shoved the door closed and practically ripped off her robe. She dragged off her school tie and fumbled with the buttons of the blouse. Shrugging it off, she looked hesitantly into the mirror, then breathed a sigh of relief. The pale blue, silky bra was untouched. Grimacing, she stopped up the drain and ran the taps into the sink. She would have loved to have been able to just wave her wand and make the pumpkin juice disappear, but her magical talent wasn't quite up to that. She would have to do it the hard way. As Ginny immersed her blouse in the water and began to scrub at the juice stain, she thought how unfair it was that her mum and dad didn't let them practice even simple spells like cleaning spells at home. Not until they'd graduated.  
  
The stain was coming out, and Ginny thought with relief that at least she wouldn't be stained. And even if she was a bit rumpled, those who would be rude enough to say something about it, like Draco Malfoy and his crowd, weren't even here to say anything. She wrung the excess water out, wondering if a miniature nova spell might help her blouse dry faster. Ginny was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't hear the door handle turn. It wasn't until she heard an all-too-familiar voice say, "Go on, I'll catch you up," that she realized someone had opened the door at all.  
  
Ginny spun, her damp blouse clutched to her chest, and saw Draco Malfoy standing just inside the doorway, his tall body blocking the exit, his cool gray eyes staring at her. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Draco Malfoy lay in his bed listening to the shouting going on down the hall. Lord, he thought. In a mausoleum this size, it should be against the law to be able to hear his parents arguing. At the very least, they should argue over something new, not the same thing, over and over. Draco wished he were going to Durmstrang this year like so many other Slytherins. At least he'd be with others who thought like him, and he wouldn't be stuck with all the bleeding heart, goody-goody gits he'd had to put up with for the past six years. But his mother was dead set against it. She wanted him 'close to her' where her 'little boy' would be safe! Gods, it wasn't just sick-making, it was bloody embarrassing. Even Greg Goyle was going to Durmstrang! Vince Crabbe would be going to Hogwarts again, but that was only because his folks couldn't afford the tuition at Durmstrang.  
  
Draco sighed as he listened to the voices down the hall rise and fall. His father had tried to insist that his son go where he could learn something useful and not have to listen to that old windbag, Dumbledore, but Narcissa had done something she seldom did. She'd put her foot down. So Draco would be going to Hogwarts, and have to mingle with the Mudbloods, Muggle- lovers, and generally pathetic bunch that made up the other three houses. He rolled his eyes and climbed out of bed. This was going to be one hell of a day.  
  
Draco had easily found a compartment to himself, and he hadn't even had to threaten anyone. To be perfectly honest, he'd grown bored of bullying the younger kids some time ago, but continued just to maintain his reputation. He didn't want anyone thinking he was going soft. Just about the only students he really enjoyed harassing now were Potter, Weasley and Granger. They were also the only ones who ever harassed back, so that was probably part of the attraction. Being top of the heap, even if the heap was a great pile of rubble like Hogwarts, wasn't much fun without challenge. But he hadn't even seen Potty and company so far, and felt much too lazy to go looking for them. What he felt right now, actually, was boredom. He absently twisted the heavy silver ring on his finger as he watched the countryside flash by. Then he examined the ring.  
  
It was large and silver with a huge emerald set into it. There wasn't much fancy work carved into it, just a large silver 'M' with gold leafing on the flat surface of the gem. To Draco the thing was too big and, frankly gaudy. But his father had given it to him and he wore it to please the man. He soon became bored with the ring as well. So he sat and mused on his mother's last words to him at the station. His father had gone to the bathroom and his mother had pulled him aside for a few 'quiet words'.  
  
"I know you're growing up, Draco. I really do," she'd said, an uncharacteristic frown marring the usual perfection of her face. "And I'm not trying to keep you tied to my apron strings. I just want you to have a last chance to think for yourself."  
  
He'd been about to ask her what she meant when his father called to them. "Just look around, see things with your own eyes, son. Then, if at the Christmas holidays, you still want to go to Durmstrang, I won't fight it."  
  
Draco wondered again what his mother had meant. Look around and see things for himself? What was she talking about? He shrugged. At least one good thing had happened. He only had to hold on until the holidays, then he'd at last be off to Durmstrang. Feeling a bit better, Draco pulled out the sketchpad he always kept nearby now and started doodling. He'd picked up the habit the summer before his fifth year. After Potty and his gang had hexed him and his friends, he'd been laid up for a few weeks. About the only thing he'd been able to do without discomfort was draw or write. So he'd begun to sketch, and amazingly had found that he had a fairly decent talent for it.  
  
After the train had been traveling for some time, the door to his compartment opened and Vince Crabbe looked in.  
  
"There you are," he exclaimed. "Been looking all over for you. Naught but a pack of stupid Gryffindors and Ravenclaws around. It's scary!"  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. Yes, Vincent Crabbe WOULD think being surrounded by all the students he was used to bullying, without the support of either Goyle or Draco, was scary.  
  
"Come in, sit down, but don't talk," Draco snapped. "I've got a lot to think about."  
  
Crabbe sat heavily opposite Draco and began to drum his fingers on his thigh. Then he began to hum tunelessly. Draco was trying to concentrate on the details of his sketch, a portrait of his mother, but Crabbe was distracting him. Crabbe started tapping his foot in time with whatever tune he thought he was humming and Draco slammed the sketchpad closed.  
  
Crabbe looked up, startled. "What?" he said when Draco glared at him.  
  
With a sigh of impatience, Draco stood. "Nothing," he said, tossing the sketchpad onto his seat. "I've got to take a piss. Be right back."  
  
Draco stepped into the corridor and nearly ran into a couple of younger Slytherins.  
  
"Malfoy!" one of them said, surprised. "Glad to see you, but I kind of thought--,"  
  
Draco cut him off. "I'll be transferring after the holidays," he said flatly.  
  
The boy looked surprised at his abruptness, but nodded. "Er, can we talk about Quidditch?" he asked, following Draco down the corridor.  
  
Draco paused and studied both boys, remembering that they were going to be on Slytherin's team this year. They seemed all right, so he shrugged, reaching for the bathroom door handle. "Fine," he said. "I'm in the compartment you almost knocked me down in front of."  
  
He tested the door handle, relieved that it was unlocked. He really had to go. As he opened the door he called over his shoulder, "Go on, I'll catch you up."  
  
Then he stepped into the bathroom and found himself face to face with a half-naked Ginny Weasley.  
  
Draco saw Weasley open her mouth to scream and acted quickly. He kicked the door closed with his foot and slapped his hand over Weasley's mouth to stifle the scream. She dropped the wet whatever it was she'd been holding and began to struggle, grabbing at his hand and hitting at his stomach at the same time. Damn, the girl was strong! And tall! He hadn't realized that she was almost his height! But he had to quiet her, and fast.  
  
"Damn it, Weasley! Do you want the entire train to know you're jaunting about in your unmentionables?" he hissed in her ear. "For God's sake, just shut up!"  
  
The effect was immediate. Weasley froze, her large eyes staring at him over his hand. He realized that he must be nearly suffocating her with his large hand covering her nose and mouth, but he made certain he had her complete attention.  
  
"I'm going to move my hand and you're NOT going to scream, right?" he asked, keeping his voice down.  
  
She nodded slightly, and Draco removed his hand. She didn't scream, but her lip started trembling. Oh, right, fine, he thought. Just what he needed! A crying female. But she didn't cry. Instead, she stooped down, a major accomplishment with both of them crammed into the small bathroom space, and picked up whatever it was she'd been holding. Draco watched and saw that it was a blouse. Then it hit him again! She wasn't wearing her blouse!  
  
Draco spun immediately and faced the door. "Good God, Weasley!" he hissed at her. "Haven't you ever heard of door locks?"  
  
She didn't answer for a moment and Draco had the horrible suspicion that she was going to break down and bawl! After a moment, though, she whispered, "I was in a hurry! I didn't want my blouse to stain!"  
  
Draco frowned. Her voice was shaky, but she didn't sound like she was on the verge of hysterics.  
  
"And you didn't have to barge in here," she accused. "You could have left when you saw I was in here!"  
  
Draco snorted. "Yeah, right, Weasley. There were two of my teammates right outside the door. Did you want me to stand there with the door open for every idiot on the train to gawk at, apologizing?"  
  
"You could at least--," she began, then stopped. "I, uh, guess you're right," she admitted. "Um, thank you, Malfoy."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. He wasn't trying to be gallant, but if that was what she wanted to believe, she could delude herself all she wanted.  
  
"Look, Weasley, what the hell ARE you doing here, half-naked? Why didn't you just use a cleaning spell? What's the use being a witch if you don't use your magic?"  
  
He could almost feel the anger coming from her, but her reply was mild enough. "SOME of us actually abide by the rules, Malfoy. I don't do magic when I'm not at school, so I had to do it by hand. Besides," she added, almost grudgingly, "Cleaning spells aren't really my best work."  
  
Draco almost laughed. She'd as good as admitted that she couldn't do a simple cleaning spell. Without thinking, he turned back to her to gloat. He froze, however, when he looked at her again. She wasn't looking at him. She was facing the faucet and mirror, looking sadly down at the draggled, sodden mass that must have been her blouse. Draco ignored the blouse and studied her instead.  
  
She was very tall, he saw. Not quite his height, but close. And she was thin. Her back was one long straight line, with very little curving. She had freckles everywhere, and the silky, light blue bra she was wearing just accentuated her paleness. The fiery red hair was pulled into an untidy knot at the top of her head and a few wisps straggled about her face and neck. He glanced into the mirror, noting the long nose, just like her brother's. Her dark eyes were still down cast, the long lashes brushing the cheekbones. Her pale face was flushed at the moment, as though she were embarrassed. Despite himself, Draco felt his eyes travel lower. Her mouth was pressed in a thin line. He let his eyes dip even lower, to her neck, then down to the soft 'V' made by the cups of her bra. Again, he thought how pale the colour made her look. She would have done better with a different shade. She didn't have much of a bust to speak of, he thought absently, but if you liked the slender, athletic type, Ginny Weasley would probably be just the ticket. His eyes came back up to his face and he saw with a start that she was staring at him.  
  
"You should take a picture; it would last longer," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm sure you want to hurry off to tell your friends about the stupid little Gryffindor you found half naked, right? Feel free to leave any time, Malfoy."  
  
Draco frowned. He didn't like her tone, and liked even less that she'd had the nerve to talk to him like that. He let his lips curl into a sneer and was about to throw an insult back at her when she spoke again.  
  
"Look, Malfoy, I'm sorry. I just…it's just.…" She stopped and drew in a deep breath. When she let it out, one of the straps on her bra slipped down her shoulder. Draco found his eyes riveted to that strap, just begging to be tugged back to where it belonged. "It's been a hell of a day, hasn't it?" Weasley sighed.  
  
He looked up at her reflection and saw that she was looking down again. His fingers itched to pull the strap back up, but he fought the urge. Instead, he cleared his throat, which had suddenly become tight.  
  
"Here, Weasley, give me the bloody blouse," he said harshly.  
  
Weasley looked up at him and lifted an eyebrow. He'd never noticed how well shaped her brows were before. He held his hand out impatiently.  
  
"Can you do anything with it?" she asked, turning to him and holding the ridiculous garment out. Her voice was pathetically pleading, which angered Draco for some unknown reason.  
  
Was she trying to be coy with him, he wondered? She was standing there in her bra, but she seemed to have thrown modesty to the wind. Maybe she was really just a little tease, getting her jollies by flashing herself at boys.  
  
"Don't you think you'd better at least put your robe on, Weasley?" he drawled, taking the blouse and pulling his wand from his pocket.  
  
Her reaction made him think again. Her face flamed, the flush spreading down her neck to her chest. She looked with horror at him, then down at herself. Snatching her robe from the hook she'd hung it on, she pulled it on quickly and turned away from him again. Definitely not a tease, he thought. She really seemed to have forgotten her scanty attire. He imagined that if he had very few nice clothes, he might get a bit obsessive about them, too.  
  
"Oh, gods," she breathed quietly. "Could this day get ANY worse?"  
  
No, Draco answered silently, his jaw tight. His bladder felt like it was going to explode, his head was starting to ache, his fingers itched to do SOMETHING, and he was just about to play house-elf and clean and press Ginny Weasley's blouse for her. He figured he'd just about hit rock bottom.  
  
Murmuring one of the cleaning spells his mother had taught him, he tapped the blouse with the tip of the wand. He used a pressing spell for good measure, then tapped Weasley on the shoulder. She looked cautiously at him, her face still flushed. She looked at her blouse and her eyes widened.  
  
"You did it!" she breathed excitedly, turning and pulling the garment from his hands. She smiled up at him and Draco realized that she was really an attractive girl when she smiled. Odd that he'd never noticed before.  
  
"Thank you, Malfoy! That was really…" Weasley paused, giving him a strange look. "That really WAS nice of you, Malfoy," she continued more calmly.  
  
Draco didn't like the speculative look in her eyes. He certainly didn't want her calling him 'nice'; just the thought was disgusting!  
  
"If you really want to thank me, Weasley, why don't you get dressed and get out of here so I can finally take a piss?"  
  
A bit crude, he admitted, but it seemed to work. The speculative look vanished and she backed away.  
  
"Er, if you could just turn around…" she said slowly.  
  
Draco stifled a laugh, but turned anyway. "Just what do you think I'm going to see that I haven't already?" he demanded sarcastically. "Not that there was all that much to see, anyway," he added, figuring that would stifle any illusions she had about him.  
  
She didn't answer, but he could hear her moving about. After a moment she tapped him on the shoulder. "Done," she said quietly.  
  
Draco turned back to see that she was fully dressed, tie tied, robe buttoned, and hair tidied. "About damn time," he muttered.  
  
"If you'll move, I'll be on my way," she told his chest. She wouldn't meet his eyes.  
  
Draco shifted out of her way, saying, "Better check the corridor and make sure no one's out there."  
  
Her eyes jumped back to his, questioning. "Well, it would look funny if you came out, then I came out a minute later, right? People might talk." He drawled it out suggestively, meaning it to be mocking, but she only nodded.  
  
"Well, thanks again," she said. She opened the door and looked cautiously out, then gave him one last glance. "You're not going to--," she said, then stopped. Whatever she was going to ask, she must have decided against it. "See you, Malfoy."  
  
When Draco finally made it back to his compartment, his hands were still itching. He wanted to reach for his sketchpad, as he usually did when he was on edge or just bored, but the two sixth years were there, wanting to talk Quidditch. He talked with them for as long as he could put up with them, then kicked them and Crabbe out, saying he needed to think.  
  
As soon as they were gone, he grabbed the sketchpad and opened it to the portrait of his mother. He made a few clumsy attempts at working on it, but couldn't seem to concentrate. He flipped to a clean page and began making long, bold strokes across the paper. He was extremely irritated, but not too surprised, as the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmead Station, to find that he'd half filled his sketchpad with drawings of Ginny Weasley. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' and 'Funny Face' belong to Paramount Pictures. 'My Fair Lady' belongs to Warner Brother's Studios. I couldn't find the writers, but I'll keep looking. No infringement was intended. Naturally everything else except the OC's and the plot (mine) belong to the wonderful, talented JK Rowling.  
  
A/N: sorry it took so long; major rewrites. Sorry it's so long. Now working on next chapter.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Ginny hurried down the corridor of the train, praying no one would see her until she could make it to her compartment. Not that there was anything to see, but she just needed a few moments to compose herself. Good grief, that had been embarrassing! Humiliating! Of all the people to walk in on her in just her bra and skirt, Malfoy was probably the worst! And she'd acted like a moron; first nearly screaming her head off, and then forgetting all about modesty when she thought he might be able to help her clean a damned stupid blouse! She had, for just one moment there, thought that perhaps he was finally turning into a decent human being. She thought he had been trying to protect her reputation and preserve her modesty. But he'd been quick enough to stomp on her presumption. He'd probably only helped her so he could get the loo to himself faster. And his comment when she'd asked him to turn around! He was right on both counts; it was a bit silly to worry about modesty when he'd already seen everything, and she did have little enough to be modest about. But the rotten git didn't have to actually say it, did he? And if that wasn't bad enough, she was sure he was going to spread the story around, embellishing it, no doubt.  
  
She stood outside her compartment door for another moment before telling herself to grow up. Let Malfoy do what he would; she'd hold her head up and just ride it out. She thought with a small smile of malicious satisfaction that if he did spread tales, Ron would probably beat his face in. On that promising note, she entered the compartment.  
  
The Ravenclaw girls had both gone, but her two roommates and Seamus were still sitting and talking. Seamus rose when she entered and immediately apologized again.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Ginny," he said, taking her hand and pulling her to sit next to him. "That was a stupid stunt!"  
  
The expression on his mobile face was so woebegone that Ginny almost had to laugh.  
  
"Never mind," she said with a smile. "No harm done, right?"  
  
Seamus brightened instantly. "Really? Great!" Then he looked at her robe.  
  
"But you've still got juice on your new robe! Let me help you with that!"  
  
He pulled out his wand and had Ginny remove the robe. She watched as he waved his wand and cleaned the remaining juice away quickly and efficiently.  
  
Ginny glanced at her roommates then back at Seamus. "You know cleaning spells?" she asked, amazed. Lord, did everyone but her know those damned spells?  
  
"Er." Seamus' face turned a bright red under her look. "Self sufficiency, you know? Mum taught me that one when she couldn't keep me out of mud puddles."  
  
Ginny took her robe back and donned it thoughtfully. Lord, she thought again. The entire fiasco in the loo with Malfoy could have been avoided if she hadn't just bolted out of the compartment like a raving lunatic. She sat again and Seamus put a companionable arm around her. Ginny didn't even notice the dark looks Jess and Violet were giving her.  
  
"Cheer up, lass," he said, broadening his Irish accent playfully. "Whatever it is that's bothering you, your Uncle Seamus'll fix it up, right?"  
  
Ginny looked at him, liking him very much. Seamus was just one of those special people who always made you feel great. She gave him a small hug and a big grin, drawing even darker looks from her friends. "Thanks, Uncle Seamus, I feel much better already."  
  
The remainder of the trip passed well enough. Ginny had pulled out some cards and the four of them played until they arrived in Hogsmeade. Seamus wandered off to ride with Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom to the castle, while Ginny, Jess and Vi got a whole carriage to themselves. The welcoming feast was louder than usual, even with the number of Slytherins less than half of normal. The sorting didn't do much to change that, with only three students being sorted into that house. In all, it was a rather odd night.  
  
Ginny had waited for the telltale signs that Malfoy had talked to the other boys in Slytherin about the incident in the loo. She looked for smirks or sneers or comments from the Slytherins, but there was nothing. Not one knowing look, not a single insult or crude comment. Ginny frowned down at her plate, then glanced up to the Slytherin table. She could see Malfoy clearly, especially since her height put her well above most of the girls she sat with, but he wasn't looking her way. He seemed to fiddling with a ring on his left hand and ignoring the other Slytherins.  
  
She looked away, still frowning. It was early, yet, she thought finally. Malfoy probably hadn't had time to really spread any stories. Shrugging, she turned to Jessica and asked her to pass the milk.  
  
"You know, Ginny, you shouldn't lead Seamus on like that. That's just plain mean!" Violet told her later.  
  
Ginny looked down at her friend, completely bewildered. Both Jess and Vi had been a bit cool toward her since leaving the train earlier. Ginny didn't have any idea what she'd done, but once the three girls were alone in their dorm room she was sure they'd tell her. However, she wasn't prepared for this!  
  
"Are you two out of your minds?" she demanded. Sitting because she knew her friends didn't like having to crane their necks up to talk to her, she continued, "What on earth makes you think I'd ever lead anyone, especially Seamus, on?"  
  
Both girls looked nervously at one another then back to where Ginny sat, arms crossed and looking a bit frightening, despite her confusion. Ginny didn't know it, but the girls were just the tiniest bit nervous around her. Not all the time; just when it came to arguments. Even without her imposing height, Ginny had a way of looking at you so you'd just want to back meekly away. They'd discussed it (not with her about, of course) and both girls felt it wasn't something she did on purpose. It was just HER. If you asked Ginny, she'd be the first to tell you that she didn't like confrontation, that she was spineless when it came to a fight. But it wasn't the least bit true. They both thought it was probably because she'd had to compete with six brothers, but whatever the cause, they were much happier when the three of them were all getting along.  
  
"Look, Gin," Vi began a bit nervously. She wished she'd kept her mouth shut, but they might as well have it out now. "Maybe you weren't leading him on, but Seamus really is crazy about you. And you were smiling and laughing with him all through supper."  
  
The look of bewilderment on Ginny's face increased. "Seamus? No way! We've always got on well together. He's friendly like that with everyone!"  
  
"Oh, come on, Gin!" Jess said, exasperated. "Don't tell me you didn't notice that you're the only one he uses that sexy Irish brogue with! The word's out, you know. You're over Harry. Naturally Seamus is going to be the first in line!"  
  
Ginny's eyes widened. She looked with disbelief from on to the other, shaking her head.  
  
"But—but, Seamus is a FRIEND! He's not interested in me like that!"  
  
Jess came over and flopped down on Ginny's bed next to her. "Ginny, you are hopeless, girl. I can't believe you didn't know Seamus has been mad about you for months!"  
  
Ginny looked away, confused. She pictured Seamus, easily three inches shorter than she, with his curly brown hair and laughing blue eyes and shook her head again. He was funny and engaging, but he treated Ginny exactly the same way he treated every other girl in school. Didn't he?  
  
Violet moved to Ginny's other side. "You honestly didn't know?"  
  
"No," Ginny declared, but she felt something warm and tingly inside her. Did Seamus really like her?  
  
"Gods, Ginny, we thought you were just teasing him on the train," Vi said seriously. Then she grinned. "Poor boy was in despair when you got spilled on. Especially after we told him about the new robes and all! I thought he was going to cry!"  
  
Jess giggled but scolded. "It wasn't that bad, Vi. He just felt really bad about it. Thought it might ruin your whole day."  
  
Ginny reflected that her entire day had nearly been ruined, but it wasn't Seamus' fault. No, she thought acidly, she could lay that blame directly at Draco Malfoy's feet. Sensing that the girls were watching her, she hid her anger at Malfoy and turned back to the conversation at hand.  
  
"Are you sure?" she asked them. If it were true, what would she do? She knew from long, painful experience how to act around someone who didn't know she was alive. But how did one act with a boy who actually did like her, as a girl and not as a surrogate sister?  
  
Jess gave Ginny a quick hug and then slipped off the bed. "Positive," she said firmly.  
  
"And if you don't believe it, just smile at him like you did earlier and watch what he does," Vi added.  
  
As they put out the lights, Ginny snuggled down into her bed. She had so much to think about, she didn't think she'd sleep a wink. Then she rolled over and was almost instantly asleep.  
  
Ginny dressed with extra care the next morning. Her hair, long, straight and thin as it was, was braided and tossed over her shoulder. Her wispy bangs were curled away from her face and her clothes were spotless. And she had worn the silky slip today. She'd almost decided to forgo the slip until it was cold enough to wear a jumper as well, because the slip, much to Hermione's initial shock, was black. But with her robe, no one would be able to tell she had a black slip under her white blouse. She also wore the black bra and knickers and, even though no one would see them except her, she felt more feminine than she could ever remember. Gathering up her book bag, she donned her robe and headed downstairs.  
  
Vi and Jess were waiting for her in the Common Room when she came down. She walked over to sit with them, noticing the odd looks bother were giving her.  
  
"What?" she asked as she plopped onto the couch. "Have I got spots since I last looked in the mirror?"  
  
"No-oo," Jess said uncertainly. "But something's different. Are you wearing makeup?"  
  
"As if…" Ginny said impatiently, using a phrase that was becoming quite popular. "What are you on about? What's different?"  
  
Vi shrugged. "I dunno, just something. Oh, well," she dismissed it. "Anyone hungry?"  
  
The Great Hall was quickly filling, except for the Slytherin table. It looked sort of forlorn, with so few kids there. Generally there were about seven to twelve students in each year for each house. With seven years, each house averaged between 50 and 80 students, more or less. But although the other three houses had their full allotment, Slytherin appeared to have fewer than thirty students. And most of the Slytherins seemed much more subdued than usual. Ginny didn't waste any time on watching the Slytherin table, though. She and her friends sat near the middle of their table, where they had for the last five years, and Ginny was waiting eagerly for her course list, even though Professor McGonagall hadn't even entered the Great Hall yet. She was talking quietly to Vi when Jess nudged her suddenly. Ginny looked over to Jess and saw Seamus slide in between Jess and herself. He gave Jess a friendly greeting, then turned to Ginny.  
  
"Mornin', Ginny-girl," he said in his lilting accent. "Sure, you're looking lovely this morning."  
  
Ginny blushed, suddenly aware of the warmth in his gaze. She had never noticed it before, but she realized that her friends were right. He never 'played up' the Irish in his voice except with her. Ginny looked down in confusion, not knowing how to react.  
  
She felt him lean closer and heard his voice in her ear, soft and firm. "I'm sure the table is fascinating, Ginny-girl, but I'd rather you looked at me."  
  
Ginny glanced up, startled that he'd moved so close, but she was saved from having to respond when Professor McGonagall thrust her arm between the two of them.  
  
"I hope," she said starchily, "that you'll be concentrating more on your grades than on Miss Weasley's ear, Mr. Finnegan. Last year's marks were a disgrace!"  
  
Vi and Jess giggled, while Ginny squirmed uncomfortably. She knew she was blushing furiously and hoped their Head of House didn't notice as she placed Seamus' course list on the table in front of him. Ginny heard the woman give a sniff before rifling the stack she was holding for Ginny's.  
  
Her voice softened slightly as she gave Ginny hers. "I'm glad to see that at least one Weasley has chosen a few challenging courses. I'm looking forward to seeing you in Advanced Transfiguration later, Miss Weasley."  
  
Seizing her list and thankful for an excuse not to have to face Seamus quite yet, Ginny scanned her classes.  
  
"Damn," Vi hissed as the Transfiguration professor moved away. "We've got double Herbology with the Slytherins."  
  
Now Ginny glanced toward the far table. A quick scan of the table revealed only four sixth year Slytherins at the table.  
  
"It won't be so bad, Vi," she soothed. "We'll outnumber 'em this year."  
  
"Yeah," Jess agreed, talking around Seamus. "That's right."  
  
"Don't forget," Seamus said, bringing their attention to him, "Each Slytherin is enough of a pain in the arse for two people!"  
  
He grinned and accepted their laughter as his due, then turned back to Ginny. "Let's see what you got, luv," he said, tugging the sheet from her fingers.  
  
He studied her classes thoroughly and frowned. "Looks like I can only walk you to classes on Tuesdays and Fridays," he said, sounding disgusted. "That is," he hesitated, looking up at her, "if you want me to."  
  
Ginny was blushing again, wanting to sink into the table and jump up and down on it at the same time, squealing girlishly. Vi nudged her, silently reminding her she had just been asked a question.  
  
"Of c-course!" she said quickly. "If you want to!"  
  
Seamus' smile was all the answer she needed. "Great! I'm going to go sit with Dean; we're discussing our Quidditch strategies for the year. See you later?"  
  
Ginny nodded and smiled and Seamus was off. Jess scooted in and dug an elbow into Ginny's ribs. "Told you, didn't I?"  
  
Ginny and her friends were sitting together at a table in the Three Broomsticks several weeks later. They were waiting for Seamus to join them and chatting about how school was going this year. Vi and Jess were both still unattached and spending all their free time talking about this boy or that. Ginny had volunteered last year to help Madam Pince in the library this year, so most of her evenings were spent shelving books, finding books for other students, or cleaning books, a task made much easier since there were significantly fewer students this year. Ginny thought it would be wonderful to have so few Slytherins about, but the fact was that without the spice of the ancient rivalry between that house and hers, things were just a bit boring. Ginny glanced around for Seamus, but he wasn't here yet. She did see Malfoy, however, and that made her think of the train trip from London. Malfoy was sitting at a table by himself writing in a notebook and occasionally twisting the large ring on his hand. The writing was something he seemed to spend hours doing in the library. Ginny glanced away, thinking how odd it was that he hadn't humiliated her by telling everyone about what she now permanently thought of as the 'loo incident'. But it had been two months and she still hadn't heard a whisper. And Malfoy had mostly left off bullying others, too. Another odd occurrence. She chanced another glance at the boy she'd loathed for years, wondering whether he really had grown up a bit, or whether he was just a coward without the support of both of his goons and a full house of Slytherins. Not a coward, she thought, since he still gave Ron and Harry a hard time, whether Vince Crabbe was with him or not. Shrugging to herself and trying to look interested in Jess and Vi's running commentary on boys, Ginny looked around again for Seamus.  
  
She and Seamus had fallen into a routine of going to breakfast together, meeting for lunch, and studying together when Ginny was finished at the library. The first time he'd walked her to class, Ginny had been a little embarrassed because of their height difference. Seamus didn't seem to notice it, though, and after a week or two, neither did Ginny. It had been fun and exciting, and for the first time in years she didn't feel like a tall, skinny beanpole. Until the first time he kissed her. Ginny still giggled a little to remember it, but it had been awkward and a little embarrassing at the time. If it hadn't been for his wonderful sense of humor, Ginny wouldn't have gotten through it.  
  
They'd been sitting in the Common Room, studying, when Ginny decided it was time to go to bed. She'd risen and Seamus had been right beside her. He'd walked her to the stairs, but he'd tugged her back before she could go up. His eyes had locked with hers and he'd pulled her toward him. Ginny had tried to bend down, but it hadn't quite worked until Seamus had muttered, "Damnation!" and stepped up onto the first step. Looking her in the eye, he'd teased, "Come here, my Amazon darlin'," and gathered her into his arms for a real kiss. Ginny's first kiss. It had been thrilling, but not quite what she'd expected. Oh, she knew all about kissing and tongues and open mouths and all the rest she'd read about in her sappy romance stories, but the reality had been just a trifle disappointing. Thankfully, their kissing since had become more comfortable. And Ginny realized that after everything she'd read in silly novels, her expectations had been unrealistic. Seamus was a wonderful boy, thoughtful and funny and there was no doubt that he absolutely adored Ginny.  
  
As she sat waiting for him, Ginny was bothered by one thing, though. She didn't absolutely adore him. Oh, she liked him very much, and he made her laugh. He made her feel pretty and feminine and even, despite the fact that she was taller, petite. He was great! And he deserved a girl who could return his deep affection. Ginny had cautiously brought this up to Jess and Vi, but their answers were unsatisfactory. Vi had said they were too young for really deep feelings yet, anyway, and Jess had assured Ginny that she would 'grow' to feel that way for Seamus. Ginny had toyed with the idea of approaching Hermione, but they were at school now, and Ginny never felt as comfortable talking with the older girl as when she was home. Besides, with her duties as Head Girl, Hermione had more important things to worry about than Ginny's love life.  
  
Ginny sighed, then smiled as Seamus ambled up and slid onto the chair next to Ginny. "'Lo, girls, hullo, luv," he said, smiling and giving Ginny a squeeze. They all smiled and greeted him before Jess and Vi returned to discussing boys again.  
  
"Want to get a different table?" Ginny asked.  
  
Seamus caught her hands and grinned. "Now, what I really would be wantin', luv, would be for you and me to sneak out back…" He leered playfully at her and Ginny grinned back. But she pulled her hands free, shrugging.  
  
"You know you'd probably have to elbow a good portion of the school population out of the way to find room back there," Ginny commented, knowing that the dark alley behind the 'Broomsticks was a popular place for kids to snog. Then clicked her tongue. Her bra strap had just slipped down her shoulder again. The damned thing was always doing that. Ginny tried to get it back in place by hitching her shoulder up. Then, when that didn't work, by lifting her arm. She hoped Rosemerta wouldn't think she was signaling for more drinks and wondered, irritated, whether it was a design defect or whether there just wasn't enough of her to anchor the stupid thing in place. Whatever the cause, it was driving her nuts.  
  
"The strap again?" Seamus asked, amused. He'd caught her going through the same motions some time before and had asked whether she were practicing yoga. She'd explained, then wished she'd kept silent. Whenever it happened now, he always said he'd be happy to help her with it.  
  
Today, however, his voice didn't sound teasing. He reached over and gently plucked at the braid that always hung over her right shoulder. Sliding it back, he let it dangle behind her. Then his finger skimmed down her arm until he could feel the offending strap through the material of her robe and blouse. Ginny froze as he traced the strap and caught her eyes. His blue eyes looked much darker than normal, and Ginny shivered a bit at the intent expression on his face.  
  
"Would you be wantin' some help with that?" he asked, his voice much lower than usual.  
  
Ginny tried to shake off her discomfort, laughing and slapping his hand away. Doing a very bad imitation of his accent, she said, "Now, me boy-o, don't you be makin' me come after you wi' my shillelagh!"  
  
Seamus looked hurt, but, before he could say or do anything more, Ginny turned away slightly, reached as discretely as possible into her blouse and tugged up the strap. She had glanced cautiously around as she finished and was shocked to meet Malfoy's equally shocked eyes. He'd obviously seen her adjusting her strap and now he looked like he'd just swallowed his tongue. Ginny glared at him, wondering why she had to keep on embarrassing herself in front of her worst enemy? And what right did he have to give her that look? Boys were forever adjusting themselves in public, weren't they? They'd casually dip a hand into a pocket, then do that odd hip roll, as though they had contents that had shifted and they were merely putting them back in place. Besides, it wasn't like she'd grabbed her breast and shoved it around. She'd simply slipped her strap back onto her shoulder. When she turned back to Seamus, he was his usual smiling self again. But Ginny felt uncomfortable now. She knew he'd been expecting a different reaction, and that stupid git Malfoy had looked like she'd committed some horrible crime. All Ginny wanted to do was get out of there. She asked Seamus if they could go and he stood immediately. They excused themselves and Ginny and Seamus wandered around Hogsmeade, looking into the shops, buying candy and talking, but Ginny was very aware that something had changed. She wasn't sure what it was, but it was there, between them, making their conversation stilted and uncomfortable. Both of them seemed to feel relieved when they got back to the Common Room and were able to go their separate ways. Later that night Ginny was still trying to figure out what she'd done wrong when she fell asleep.  
  
Sunday had been awkward, with both Ginny and Seamus trying to pretend nothing had changed. Monday morning Seamus told Ginny he was trying to finish an assignment for potions and she should go to breakfast without him. Although it hurt a little, Ginny was a bit relieved. Jess and Vi kept up a lighthearted stream of chatter, as though trying to take her mind off of Seamus. Classes seemed longer than usual, but Ginny was relieved when they finally got to their double Herbology class. Professor Sprout was taking them through the harvesting of foxglove, or wolfbane. There had been an enormous amount of the pretty but potentially deadly plant to be harvested. Ginny secretly thought the castle might be stocking up in the event of a werewolf attack, but she kept her fears to herself. As she, Jess and Vi were carrying their baskets to one of the storage sheds, they passed two of the Slytherin boys in their class. Vi smiled shyly at one of them, and surprisingly, he smiled back. These Slytherins didn't seem half bad, but Jess said it was just because they were outnumbered. Ginny was inclined to agree, but, as she didn't want to argue with Vi on the point, she kept her opinion to herself. The girls were heading back when they heard voices from round the corner of a shed. Male voices. Vi and Jess stopped in their tracks and looked fully prepared to stand there and listen in.  
  
"Come on, you two," Ginny whispered, urging her friends to move. "We shouldn't be eavesdropping." Then they heard Vi's name.  
  
The three girls looked at each other, and, as if by mutual agreement, snuck closer to the corner to listen better.  
  
"Yeah, she's pretty, but she's a Gryffindor! What do you want with a Gryffindor girlfriend?"  
  
The girls looked at each other, Ginny and Jess looking indignant and Vi looking flushed and pleased. They listened more closely as the other boy answered.  
  
"I don't care if she's a Gryff. And, so what if she is? What's wrong with it? Malfoy's the most important Slytherin at school and I think he's hot for that other Gryff. Dunno what he sees in her, her being so tall and skinny, but he can't keep his eyes off her. If a Gryff's good enough for him, I don't see why I can't ask Violet out."  
  
At this, Ginny straightened abruptly, uncomfortably aware that Jess and Vi were staring at her. There were very few really tall girls at Hogwarts and Ginny was the only Gryffindor female who qualified as being 'so tall and skinny'. She shook her head in denial, knowing the boys must be mistaken. Before she could suggest they get back to their classmates, though, the other boy spoke again.  
  
"Well, I don't think there's anything wrong with Weasley. I guess she's good looking enough, but she's bossy. And when she gives you that 'look'..." He paused and Ginny started to back away. She wasn't quite far enough away, though, to miss the second boy say, "Guess Malfoy could handle her, though, if anyone could."  
  
Vi and Jess caught up to Ginny and tried in vain to get her to talk to them, but she went through the remainder of the class tight lipped and silent. Malfoy! What was he doing watching her? Was he just waiting for an opportunity to humiliate her even more than in the loo? Was that why he'd been looking at her the other day? Or had the boys, knowing she'd been listening, set her up? No, she dismissed that as soon as it crossed her mind. The first boy, what was his name? Oh, yes, Charles Underwood. He wouldn't have said that about Vi if he'd known she was listening, would he?  
  
She had glared at the two Slytherins when they'd finally rejoined the class. The one, Charles, had looked away, his cheeks red. The other had stepped back a pace, crossing his arms and giving Ginny a speculative look. Probably wondering how Malfoy would 'handle' her, she fumed. Well, she'd handle Malfoy if she ever caught him 'staring' at her. And if he so much as breathed a single word about the 'loo incident', she wouldn't wait for Ron to smash his face in. She'd ambush him outside the library some night and strangle him herself. It was infuriating!  
  
Class was finally over and Ginny stomped back toward the castle, not bothering to wait for her friends. She didn't even bother to return to Gryffindor to deposit her books. She would go to the library and wait there until her anger died down. Halfway up the stairs the damned strap started its daily journey down her shoulder and with a curse she reached under her robe and tried to yank it into place through the sleeve of her blouse. She was only partially successful but as there were several students milling around on the upper levels, she let it be for now.  
  
Ginny was near the library when she saw a familiar tall figure ahead. Malfoy! The author of all her miseries was walking slowly in the same direction as she was. He hadn't seen her and Ginny was tempted to either turn back to Gryffindor Tower or to run up and give him a hard shove. Indeed, she could picture herself shoving him and him falling on that hateful face. Maybe he'd even get a bloody nose! She didn't act on either impulse. First, she would feel like a horrible coward if she let Malfoy dictate where she went in school, just by his presence. And more importantly, if she attacked him, she would eventually have to explain her actions. Right now she had no proof of what the two Slytherins were saying. She'd never noticed Malfoy staring at her and she was certain that he hadn't said anything about the train. And even if she could prove that he was staring at her, so what? He wasn't physically harming her; he wasn't even (it appeared) spreading gossip about her. So, instead of giving in to the murderous impulse, she merely continued walking, albeit at a slower pace, to the library.  
  
Malfoy disappeared into the boys' bathroom and Ginny used the opportunity to hurry past and slip into the library. Madam Pince gave her a curt nod and Ginny moved to a table near the circulation desk. She usually put her things behind the desk, but she wasn't working yet and Madam Pince could be rather touchy sometimes. Ginny pulled her things out and started on the potions assignment Professor Snape had given them earlier. Unlike Ron and Harry, Ginny actually enjoyed Potions. She figured it was because hers wasn't a double class with a pack of Slytherins, as Ron always seemed to get, so Snape didn't seem to feel it necessary to play favorites or pick on the Gryffindors. She was soon immersed in her assignment.  
  
The potions assignment neatly dovetailed with her Herbology lesson. Professor Snape wanted them to study the making of anti-werewolf powders and potions and Professor Sprout was teaching them how to harvest and prepare the foxglove or wolfbane for such uses. Ginny was so engrossed in her research that when the irritating strap slipped down again, she absently loosened her tie, freed the top button of her blouse, and reached in to pull the strap up. She suddenly felt a strange prickling sensation down her back. Straightening, she rolled her shoulders, trying to get rid of the sensation. She could still feel it, thought. It was that odd sensation of being watched. Ginny whirled in her seat, expecting to see Malfoy sitting nearby giving her that disgusted look again. The library was practically empty. Brow wrinkled, Ginny turned back to her assignment. She would have sworn someone had been watching her, but obviously she had been wrong. Before she could settle back to work, Madam Pince approached her.  
  
"Are you going to be here all night, Miss Weasley?" the librarian said in a hushed, stiff voice. "Or do you actually plan to have some supper?"  
  
Ginny glanced at her watch, surprised. She'd been here over an hour!  
  
"Er, yes, ma'am. I'm going right now!" Ginny gathered her things and deposited them in her bag. With another uneasy glance around the deserted library, she shouldered the bag and headed out the door.  
  
Ginny was about halfway down the stairway when she realized how stupid it was for her to lug her bag down to the Great Hall, only to have to lug it right back up here. She turned back toward the library to ask the librarian if she could just leave her things until she finished supper. Pushing open the library door, she called, "Madam Pince? Can I leave my bag here?"  
  
There was no answer and Ginny realized the woman had probably headed for her chambers where she usually passed the supper hour, being unused to the crowd and noise of the Great Hall. She tried again. "Um, Madam PINCE?"  
  
Still no answer. Ginny shrugged to herself. She'd tried. She slipped behind the circulation desk and deposited her things, then pushed the library door open, wanting to hurry down to supper. She cringed when she felt the door slam into someone and heard the person curse.  
  
"Oh, my God," Ginny said quickly, peeking around the door. "I'm sor—," was as much as she got out when the door was yanked out of her hands and Draco Malfoy stood glaring at her.  
  
He was holding the edge of the door with one hand and his cheek with the other, the large, ugly signet ring winking evilly at her. Ginny understood immediately that she had just smacked him in the face. The anger she'd felt over the conversation she'd overheard earlier vanished as she looked at him in chagrin. The look on his face was enough to make her run and hide, but she just stood there, frozen to the spot.  
  
"Goddamnit, Weasley!" Malfoy hissed at her, pulling his hand from his cheek and examining it for blood.  
  
Ginny saw a large lump starting to rise, with a perfectly straight weal running vertically through it. Oh, lord, poor Malfoy, she thought. Without even thinking how ridiculous it was to feel sorry for him, she stepped closer and raised a hand to his cheek. He flinched back from her touch and grabbed her hand.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Trying to have another go at me?" he snapped, pushing her hand away from him.  
  
Ginny stepped back, surprised at the venom in his tone. She straightened to her full height, nearly able to look him directly in the eye. She narrowed hers as she looked at him angrily.  
  
"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said icily. "If I'd known you were sneaking around, I might have opened the door more slowly. But, then," she paused, making sure he was paying attention, "I might just have shoved it open harder."  
  
If she hoped to shock or surprise him, she was disappointed. He merely glared at her and nodded. "No doubt, Weasley," he said sourly. "Are you going to stand there forever, or get the hell out of the way so I can go in?"  
  
Ginny realized that she was blocking the door to the library. She should feel relieved that Malfoy hadn't just shoved her aside or bowled right over her. Lord knew he probably felt he had the right. Ginny stepped back inside the library, wondering if she should go get one of the teachers. His cheek was still swelling, and if he didn't heal it magically, it would be spectacularly coloured by morning. Her conscience wouldn't allow her to just desert him, so she followed when he stomped inside and tossed his book bag onto the nearest table. He spun to face her, glowering.  
  
"Well?" he demanded, still scowling. "What are you still doing here? Planning your next attack?"  
  
Ginny took a step back, thinking he could bloody well shift for himself. Unfortunately, she couldn't seem to stop herself from reaching up to try to touch the swollen lump on his cheek again.  
  
"You should get some ice on that, straight away," she murmured, moving forward when he didn't pull away again. "It's going to look like someone socked you if you don't."  
  
"Fine, Weasley," he sneered, flinching slightly at the pain the insufferable expression caused. "You did it, you heal it. You've enough magic for THAT, don't you?"  
  
Ginny glared at him, knowing he was talking about the loo incident and her inability to clean her own blouse. She dropped the hand she'd been reaching with, noting disgustedly that her stupid strap had dropped again, as well.  
  
"Sorry, Malfoy," she sneered right back. "Healing's not my strong point. Especially when it's a conceited git like you!"  
  
She started to turn away, her left hand automatically trying to work the strap up through her sleeves. She gasped when she felt Malfoy's hand grab her wrist and pull her back.  
  
"What are--," she stopped when she saw Malfoy glaring at her. Well, not precisely at her, but at her right arm. She tried to pull away but even though they were almost the same height, he was much stronger than she. "Malfoy, what are--."  
  
"You should do something about that, Weasley," he said darkly, his eyes still riveted to her arm.  
  
Ginny stared at him, wondering what was wrong with him. His light eyes seemed shades darker suddenly, and his pale cheeks were slightly flushed. He didn't seem to be angry about the injury she'd just given him, but he did seem to be angry at something. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from gasping when he raised his left hand to her arm. He trailed his fingers up her arm, sliding them beneath the material of her robe. It was similar to what Seamus had done a few days ago, but at the same time, nothing like.  
  
Malfoy's fingers found the bra strap easily, but instead of tugging at it, he traced the strap around her arm to the back, then back to the front, again and again. The whole while, he was staring at her arm, as though visualizing what lay beneath the concealing robe and blouse. Ginny realized with a sudden shock that he knew exactly what her clothing hid. He'd seen for himself, and had wasted no time ridiculing what little there was. But the intent look on his face, the soft, lazy touch of his fingers on her arm, lord, even the way he smelled, standing so close to her, his mouth almost level with hers, were sending shivers through her body. It was nothing like when Seamus had touched her and offered to help her with her strap.  
  
No! Of course not! Ginny screamed to herself. She LIKED Seamus, and despised this arrogant, conceited git. She was even a bit frightened of him, and that was why she was shivering at his touch! No telling what kind of nasty trick he would pull, right? Ginny blinked and realized that she'd actually stood there, after Malfoy had insulted her once again, and let him start pawing her! What was wrong with her? She didn't notice Malfoy reach into his pocket, but she was just pulling away from him when he pulled his wand out.  
  
"Unless you want every boy in school trying to, er, give you a 'hand', you'd better learn this little bit of magic," he growled at her, tapping the wand to her arm. He said a quiet spell, one she'd never heard before, but apparently effective. She could feel the strap lifting up her arm until it rested properly back over her shoulder.  
  
Ginny felt humiliated and grateful at the same time. Why did bloody Malfoy have to be the one who had caught her, twice now and lord knew how many other times, dragging her strap up? She was just wondering how to thank him when he spoke again.  
  
"Well, Weasley, do you think you can handle at least THAT little spell? Or is that not in your line, either?"  
  
Gratitude dissolved instantly into intense dislike. She wanted so badly to slap the disgusting smirk off his face that her hands actually twitched. He noticed.  
  
"Huh, good thing I didn't expect to be thanked for my troubles. I'd be rather careful of slapping, though, Weasley. You never know who might just decide to hit back."  
  
He backed away from her and gave her a final sneer. "And next time, Weasley, try getting something that actually fits."  
  
Ginny seethed all the way down to the Great Hall. Malfoy had picked up his books and sauntered off toward the back of the library, completely ignoring her impotent rage. Oh, she'd been so tempted to follow him and smack him, but she remembered his words. She wouldn't put it past a Malfoy to hit back, even if it meant hitting a girl. Besides, she'd always thought it ludicrous that women thought they could strike men without consequences. And with her unusual height and strength for a girl, it would be totally unfair to trade on that particular double standard. Even with an irritating git like Malfoy.  
  
Instead, Ginny vowed to make sure she never gave him a chance to embarrass her like that again.  
  
"Where's Seamus?" Violet asked her several days later.  
  
The girls were just sitting down to breakfast and, once again, Seamus hadn't joined them. Ginny slid in between her friends, but curled one leg under her so she could look around. She glanced around the Great Hall and shrugged.  
  
"I think we're going to stop going out," she said, a bit sadly.  
  
"What? Ginny, he's crazy about you!" Jessica gave Ginny a disbelieving look, but Ginny nodded.  
  
"I know, but I think he knows I don't feel the same. He's been different lately, ever since the trip to Hogsmeade. I don't blame him, though. It's miserable caring that much for someone who doesn't feel the same way. I did it for years with Harry."  
  
Vi put a comforting arm around Ginny. "I'm sorry, Gin. I thought you two were so great together."  
  
Ginny gave her a weak smile. "Yeah, and he always makes, er, made me laugh. But he really deserves someone just as great as he is."  
  
Just then, Jess elbowed Ginny in the ribs, nodding toward the Slytherin table. "Gods, he really is staring! I thought Charles was making that up!"  
  
The other two girls looked up and saw that Malfoy was indeed staring at Ginny. Rather, he seemed to be staring at her legs. Looking down, Ginny realized what he was looking at. She'd left her robe unfastened and it had fallen apart, revealing her knee, a long expanse of thigh from her skirt having ridden up, and about two inches of silky black lace from her slip. Ginny immediately tugged the skirt back down and brought her knees together, feet firmly on the floor. It took less than a second, but the damage was done. The git had seen her embarrassed again! She chanced one swift glance at Malfoy's face, but only saw the back of the sixth year boy who liked Vi. Charles seemed to be arguing with Malfoy and was blocking him from view. Ginny didn't know if it was on purpose, but she suddenly decided that Charles was all right in her books.  
  
"Good grief, Ginny, it was only your slip! It wasn't like he was trying to see your knickers or something!" They were preparing for bed later that night and Jess was trying to get Ginny off the subject of what horrid atrocities she'd like to commit on Malfoy's person.  
  
"Besides, it wasn't like you were trying to get his attention, right? Can't blame a boy for being a boy. I wouldn't be surprised if there weren't more boys staring. We just didn't notice them."  
  
"Oh, thanks, Jess, you're really making me feel much better," Ginny grumbled as she pulled on her pajamas. She was still fuming over the incident, but since she hadn't told the girls about her run in with Malfoy in the library, they really couldn't understand her anger. Malfoy must have healed the injury, though. The next morning his face had been unmarred.  
  
"Well, at least he didn't see you in that rig," Vi teased, eying Ginny with a lifted brow.  
  
Ginny was wearing men's pajamas since she couldn't find any really nice nightgowns in her size that didn't look ridiculous on her. She glanced into the mirror and sighed.  
  
"Yeah," she agreed. "Thank the fates for small favors. He'd probably assume that they were handed down from the boys and throw our money situation in my face."  
  
Vi sighed and thought it was much more likely he'd try to devour her. The men's pajamas were oddly very sexy on her long, lean friend. Especially since they were just a bit too large and would probably make Malfoy imagine what she'd look like in his pajamas. That is, she thought with a sudden grin, if he wore any.  
  
"Charles said that he must be mad about you, because he's completely unapproachable when your name comes up."  
  
Two sets of eyes locked on Violet when she made this admission.  
  
"And just when did you talk to 'Charles' about me?" Ginny demanded.  
  
Vi blushed and stammered a bit. "W-well, we did get a f-few minutes in Herbology, today. He asked me to g-go to the Christmas dance with him."  
  
"There's a Christmas dance?" Jess jumped off her bed and threw herself onto Vi's bed, snatching up the girl's pillow and holding it threateningly. "And how does Mr. Nice Slytherin know there's going to be a dance?"  
  
"He was serving detention with Professor McGonagall and heard her discussing it with another teacher," Vi said casually. "He said he wanted to ask me before anyone else did."  
  
Ginny sat next to Vi and took the pillow from Jess. "And how did you find this out, AND have a discussion about me and Malfoy in a 'few minutes in Herbology'?"  
  
Vi blushed again. "We-ell," she said slowly. "I guess maybe we spent a few minutes talking after he finished Quidditch practice, too."  
  
"The PITCH!" Jess and Ginny squealed together. Everyone knew that there was probably no better place (weather permitting) for some privacy (spelled s-n-o-g-g-i-n-g) than at the Quidditch pitch. Even with a team practicing, there were plenty of secluded niches to hide in. Ginny forgot her irritation with Malfoy as she grabbed Vi's hands and pulled her off the bed. Jess joined her and they both began jumping up and down, giggling and shrieking excitedly.  
  
"You met him at the pitch! You met him at the pitch!" they singsonged together. Vi blushed even more furiously.  
  
"It wasn't like that!" she insisted when her friends had calmed down. "I just went to watch our team practice, you know? I can't help it that his team was just finishing, can I?"  
  
Ginny and Jess looked at Vi, then at each other. They grinned and started singing again, "You met him at the pitch, you met him at the pitch!"  
  
Vi gave them both a disgusted look and flopped back onto her bed. "You two are just pathetic!"  
  
  
  
Ginny was in an odd mood. It had been several weeks since she and Seamus had officially broken up. They still talked and he still made her laugh. But there was now a restraint between them. Ginny was very careful not to spend very much time alone with him. She found that he still followed her with his eyes and once or twice looked on the verge of asking her out again, or even cornering her in some dark, deserted place, but he never did. She felt bad that it hadn't worked out between them, because Seamus was really a wonderful person. He just wasn't the one for her.  
  
The holidays were fast approaching, and everyone was making plans. There was to be a dance; Charles had been right about that. Seamus had approached Ginny, wondering if she'd like to go with him, 'just as friends'. She'd thanked him, but said no. Vi, of course, was going with Charles. Colin Creevey had asked Jess. At first, though, she'd refused.  
  
"Well, I can't let Gin sit alone, now can I?" Jess asked when Vi asked her why she said no.  
  
"You'd better," Ginny had exclaimed when she heard. "If you don't go with Colin, just because I don't have a date, I'll sit in the room and read the night of the dance!"  
  
Both of her friends protested.  
  
"But, Ginny," Jess began, but Ginny cut her off.  
  
"There hasn't been a dance here since the Yule ball three years ago! There is no way I'm going to let you two miss out! Just make sure your fellows don't mind if I sit with you!"  
  
After much arguing, they finally agreed that they would go, as long as Ginny sat at their table with them. The question of what to wear arose, but since Ginny had gotten new robes this summer, she didn't have to worry about it. She only had to consider what to do with her hair.  
  
"You know," she mused as they sat in front of the large mirror on the wall. "When Hermione and I were in Muggle London, I saw a film poster with a hairdo that I liked."  
  
Of course she'd told her friends about the shopping expedition, and they were eager to hear about the poster.  
  
"It was a really skinny woman with huge eyes. She was wearing this black sheath dress and a diamond choker, I think. And her hair was pulled up, smooth and sleek around her head, and piled up in the back."  
  
Ginny concentrated, trying to recall the name of the film, trying even harder to remember exactly what the actress had looked like. Jess was Muggle born, and might be able to help her if she could come up with a name. She seemed to remember the woman wearing long black gloves and holding a cigarette in a cigarette holder, too, but couldn't be positive.  
  
"Um, it was something like 'Breakfast at Tippery's' or something like that. Does it sound familiar?"  
  
Jess thought, then said uncertainly, "Er, 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'? That old film? Lord, Gin, it must be twenty, thirty years old! You want to look like Audrey Hepburn?"  
  
Ginny shrugged. "Whoever," she said. "I just liked how neat and sophisticated her hair looked. And she was skinny, like me!"  
  
Jess thought again, then snapped her fingers. "You know, that's just the ticket. The woman was thin as a rail, and she starred in lots more films. Men were mad about her, even if she was all skin and bones! Let me send an owl to my brother. He can copy some pictures of the 'net and send them back. Too bad we don't have fax here."  
  
Vi and Ginny nodded vaguely, barely understanding that Jess was talking about using a computer. The entire computer/internet thing was almost incomprehensible to them. Jess rolled her eyes at them and hurried to send a note to her brother.  
  
As she was scribbling her note, Vi leaned over and whispered, "Why would we need facts?"  
  
Ginny shook her head and shrugged, mystified.  
  
Ginny was shelving books. The holidays officially began the following day and there were hundreds of books that students, going home for two weeks, had dropped off so they wouldn't return them late. Friday night was never a really busy library night, especially at this time of year. In fact, she thought the library might be deserted. As she shelved the books, Ginny happily contemplated the dance, to be held tomorrow night. She'd received the pictures (still non-moving) from Jess' brother and had loved all the different views of the actress. The woman, Audrey Hepburn, really was thin, almost emaciated. But she had lovely bones, large eyes and a distinctly 'classy' air to her. She was definitely elegant. And Ginny had decided on the 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' hairdo, even though the pictures from the films 'Funny Face' and 'My Fair Lady' were also attractive.  
  
With these happy thoughts, Ginny reached for the next stack of books. She'd separated them by location, and was now working on the almost inaccessible books on the top shelves. These were at least ten or twelve feet off the ground, and required the use of the rolling ladder. She'd first used her wand for these, but Madam Pince forbade her the use of magic in the library. With a sigh, Ginny hauled the large stack to the ladder and balanced them on one of the middle steps. Looking around hastily, she hiked up her robe and started climbing.  
  
Climbing up steps while trying not to upset a stack of books and keep one's robe hem from tripping one was difficult at best. Finally, annoyed, she removed the robe so she could climb freely. Neatly folding her robe and setting it over the top step, she grabbed two books and made it to the top of the stairs with only a little more difficulty.  
  
"Stupid not to use magic," she mumbled to herself, shoving the first book into its slot. As Madam Pince was out of the library, collecting more stray books from classrooms, Ginny probably could have used magic. Unfortunately, she might get caught in the act, as she had been once before, so she decided to do it the hard way. Looking at the author's name on the second book, Ginny sighed. It was at the end of the aisle. She could climb down and push the ladder, or try to pull herself without upsetting the books already stacked on the step.  
  
It was only a few feet, she told herself as she reached out for the shelf. She pulled herself, relieved that the wheels at the bottom of the ladder were moving smoothly. She reached out again, and gained a few more inches. This was actually going to work! Her next pull was a bit more enthusiastic, and she moved rather more quickly than she'd expected toward the end of the shelves. Focusing on not going too far, Ginny wasn't looking down. So it was totally unexpected when the ladder struck something suddenly, shuddering to a stop and knocking all the books (and almost knocking her, too) to the floor.  
  
Ginny cringed and looked down, but the loud oath and string of expletives had already told her who she would see.  
  
Draco Malfoy was rubbing his shoulder, glaring up at her and still spewing curses.  
  
"Goddamn, Weasley, do you EVER look where you're going?"  
  
Ginny hadn't felt too badly about the door in the face incident because there was no way she could have known he'd been there. But she should have been watching this time.  
  
Climbing carefully down from the ladder, she tried to apologize.  
  
"Malfoy, I'm really sorry! It was all my fault! I should have--."  
  
"Yeah, right, Weasley!" he snapped, cutting her off. "You know, you should be declared a national disaster!"  
  
He continued to glare as Ginny bit her lip and twisted her hands. It must have been that he was taller than her, because she didn't usually feel nervous even when confronted with hostility. Or maybe it was because she had been so careless. Whatever, she felt impelled to try again.  
  
"Really, Malfoy, I am sorry! Can I do anything?"  
  
"Not bloody likely, Weasley," he growled. "What the hell were you doing, anyway?"  
  
Ginny frowned. "Well, that should be obvious. I was shelving books!" She glanced at all the books, now scattered on the floor, and knelt, picking them up.  
  
Malfoy cursed again and strode away. Ginny sighed. At least she'd apologized, even though he'd been so ungracious about it. She heard him slam his books onto a nearby table. Then he was beside her, helping her gather all the books.  
  
"Why the hell don't you use magic?" he demanded, still glaring. "Unless-- ."  
  
"Don't even, Malfoy," Ginny said irritably. What was he doing, helping her, anyway? "Of course I can levitate a few books. Madam P doesn't allow magic in the library."  
  
"Stupid," he muttered. "How're we supposed to practice when we can't use our talent? Where is the old bat, anyway? I expected her to be on our necks with all the racket you made."  
  
Ginny decided they were rhetorical questions since he turned away from her to get the last few books without waiting for an answer. She stacked hers on the step again, wondering why Malfoy had helped her. He brought the books back, but stood there, holding them and glaring from her to the ladder and back.  
  
"Go on, Weasley," he said angrily. "I'll hand them up. That way you can't maim any other unsuspecting students."  
  
Ginny looked at him, hoping the shock she was feeling didn't show on her face. Draco Malfoy helping?  
  
"I'm trying to study, Weasley!" he snapped at her, jaw set and cheeks slightly flushed with anger or annoyance. "The longer you're thrashing about, like a herd of dragons, the longer it's going to take me to finish. So let's just get this over with!"  
  
Oh, Ginny thought to herself. Of course he'd have some perfectly selfish reason to help. With a slight feeling of trepidation, Ginny started climbing. As she reached for the first book, she glanced down and remembered that she wasn't wearing her robe! She was wearing her slip, of course, but from his vantage, Malfoy could look right up her skirt! She needn't worry, though. He was staring stonily at the shelves in front of him and holding up a book. He looked extremely annoyed. Even so, Ginny had to fight the urge to yank her robe back on. That would make it obvious that she'd been afraid he'd try to look at her knickers. And he'd made it perfectly clear that he wasn't interested in her undergarments, so she would only give him something to laugh at her about.  
  
She shelved the first book, then the next, and then the next. Actually, it was going quite smoothly, which surprised Ginny. She couldn't imagine any joint venture with Malfoy going smoothly. She was still surreptitiously checking to make certain he wasn't peeking, but he remained silent and continued to stare ahead of him. Ginny shrugged and reached for the next book. She'd shelved over half of the books, with Malfoy shoving the ladder back and forth when she asked. The book she was holding didn't seem to have a space open for it, so Ginny had to shove at the books on either side to make room. She was just pushing it into place when she felt an odd prickle down her spine. She also felt an odd draft up her skirts and looked down to see Malfoy holding up the next book. But this time he was using the spine of the book to lift the edge of her skirt and he was staring intently up the damned thing! In a flash Ginny was down the ladder.  
  
Malfoy clutched the book and took a step backward, but he was much too late. Furious, Ginny swung with all her might, catching Malfoy directly across the face with a powerful, open-handed slap. The crack must have been heard throughout the entire library, as must have the thud from Malfoy striking the shelves behind him. He dropped the book with a bang and was barely able to fend Ginny off when she came at him again.  
  
"You BASTARD!" she hissed. "You perverted SON OF A BITCH! What the HELL did you think you were doing!?"  
  
Ginny flailed at him with her fists, remembering all her grievances against him, putting her fury behind her blows. But her anger made her movements awkward, and he grabbed her fists easily. Although Malfoy looked bewildered by his actions, he didn't look a bit remorseful. That made Ginny even angrier! She couldn't remember feeling so angry!  
  
"Look, Weasley, I didn't mean--," he stopped, seeming at a loss.  
  
"Like hell, Malfoy!" she sneered. "Just looking for more ways to humiliate me? When I tell Ron, he's going to murder you!"  
  
Malfoy now started looking angry. He was still holding her wrists, no longer an easy task when she was yanking and pulling with all her might.  
  
"Go ahead, Weasley," he jeered. "He might be interested to know how you traipse around half nude, and how you're always tugging at your underthings in public!"  
  
Ginny stilled. She was certain that Malfoy hadn't said anything about the loo incident, and she definitely didn't want Ron to know. She pulled her wrists away and stepped back.  
  
"Yeah, that's just what I'd expect from you, Malfoy," she hissed. She felt her lip quiver and ordered herself not to cry. "Just get out! Get out or I'll have Madam Pince throw you out when she gets back!"  
  
His eyes narrowed and he nodded once. "Don't worry, Weasley. I was just leaving!"  
  
He turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving Ginny glaring at his back.  
  
It took several minutes to calm down. Ginny couldn't believe that Malfoy had been trying to get a look at her knickers! Oh, yeah, she'd wanted to pull her robe closed, but that was just normal modesty. She'd never, in a million years, have thought the git would really look! He didn't fancy her, didn't even find her attractive! It was incomprehensible to her that he would try to look up her skirt, unless it was just a built-in male imperative. He was a boy; ergo he had to look. And what would he say about this latest fiasco? That she'd invited it with her immodesty? Finally getting her emotions under control, Ginny went back to shelving. She'd think about the horrible scene with Malfoy later. And if he did decide to talk, she'd take Ron's Beater's club and bash the git's face in! Hell with Pince, she thought as she pulled out her wand. She just wanted to get done as soon as possible.  
  
Madam Pince came in as Ginny was finishing shelving the books on the lower shelves. She'd put her wand away long since and didn't have to worry about being caught. Madam Pince gave a stiff thanks for working so efficiently and asked her to look round and make sure no one forgot anything since the library would be closed until the following week. Since no one had come in all evening (except stupid Malfoy) Ginny knew she wouldn't find anything. But there at the back of the library was a small stack of schoolbooks.  
  
Ginny remembered Malfoy slamming his books onto the table, then, in his hurry to leave, he must have forgotten them. She shook her head. She'd just leave them at the circulation desk. There was no way she would return them in person. She lifted the textbook, his Arithmancy text, and saw a sketchpad underneath.  
  
Malfoy with a sketchpad? Ginny couldn't imagine Malfoy sketching, since that required some creativity, and the Malfoy she knew only destroyed things. She was overcome with curiosity, wondering what he would draw. Probably skulls and snakes and nasty things, she thought to herself.  
  
Flipping the first page, she was astounded to find a very good portrait, done in charcoals, of Narcissa Malfoy. Ginny wouldn't have believed that Malfoy had done it, except that this was the book he was forever scribbling in, and there, at the bottom of the page was his signature.  
  
"Wow," she breathed to herself. He was really good!  
  
She looked around, as though afraid he would come storming in to claim his things and attack her for invading his privacy. Then she flipped the page, then the next and then the next. And nearly fainted. Covering more than half of the remaining pages were drawings of her! 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
She'd kill him, she vowed. She would take Ron's Beater's club, walk up to him in the Great Hall, and break his knees. Then she would proceed to smash his hated, arrogant, smug, sneering face in. Ginny had spent most of the night tossing and turning, almost in a state of shock. She still couldn't believe what he'd drawn!  
  
Ginny had been pleasantly surprised at the portrait of Narcissa Malfoy. It had not shown the woman Ginny was used to seeing. It had shown what Draco Malfoy obviously saw when he looked at her. The eyes were softer, caring and concerned. The mouth was just a bit weak, but looked as though it could be firm if need be. And the woman's hair was not the sculpted perfection it always was when she was in public. It was slightly windblown and mussed. In all, it was a loving portrait and it had touched Ginny deeply.  
  
Then she'd turned the page. There was a picture of Ginny, face only, staring out of troubled eyes. Another was of her head and shoulders, but obviously nude, accurate right down to her freckles and the small scar she'd earned trying to play Quidditch with her brothers. Another of her eyes only, or her hands, or her from the back, with her hair up in the messy knot she'd had in the loo. There were others as well, as Ginny flipped the pages. In her robes, in the Great Hall, sitting with just a trace of her slip showing. And there were many of her in various stages of undress. One of her wearing her blouse, but untucked and unbuttoned, with just a hint of her bra visible. Ginny had grown more pale and more shocked as she looked. Why was he drawing her? Who had he shown the drawings to? The sketches were much too accurate to be put down to imagination; Ginny noted with horror that they were almost all confined to what he'd actually seen, which was quite enough to make anyone looking assume that she and Malfoy were, or had been sleeping together! But the biggest shock came when she looked at the last picture. It took the entire page and had obviously been worked on at length.  
  
The picture showed the wall of the loo on the train. There was the sink and faucet, and the mirror and paper towel rack. That wasn't what nearly caused Ginny to faint, though. It was what was reflected in the mirror. Malfoy's pencil had cleverly sketched as though the viewer was standing in front of the subjects, watching them, or, more accurately, as though one of the subjects was watching himself in the mirror. For the reflection showed Ginny standing in front of the mirror, wearing only the pale bra and her skirt, as she had been. But there was a boy standing behind her. The boy was wearing his robe and had his face buried in Ginny's neck, as though nuzzling her. Ginny's image had her head thrown back against the boy's shoulder, with one arm looped up and back, holding him there. God, Malfoy had even caught the fact that she didn't shave, one of her mother's odd restrictions which she planned to rectify immediately she turned eighteen! There was a very light dusting of soft hair drawn into her armpit! Ginny had shuddered as she continued to examine the drawing. Her other arm was draped across her abdomen, covering the boy's right arm. His left arm was also wrapped around her, but higher, with his hand splayed over her ribs and his thumb and forefinger barely touching the front clasp of the bra. Even though the face of the boy was obscured, Ginny could guess who it was supposed to be. The height and pale hair would have been a dead giveaway, but the clincher was the large, gaudy signet ring on the left hand!  
  
Ginny had stared at the picture, feeling waves of shame and anger wash over her. The others were bad enough, but how dared Malfoy to draw her in some smutty pose with himself! His face was obscured, but hers was painfully exposed, and the look on it was disgusting. He'd made her look like a lust- crazed tramp! It was obvious enough now what he thought of her. He must think her cheap and easy! He watched her so he could make his drawings more accurate!  
  
That had been last night. The first wave of anger had worn off, but now she was seething. She would not let him get away with this! What if someone else had found the sketchbook before her? They would think she'd posed for those sketches! And Malfoy would probably revel in her humiliation! She'd bloody well kill the bastard!  
  
As she lay in her bed, listening to the sounds of her roommates sleeping, she plotted. She realized she really couldn't just walk up to him and beat him with a club, much as she'd like to. But what could she do? How could she get even? Could she use the drawings to turn the tables on him? Embarrass him for being obsessed with a girl who's family he hated? Because even though the drawings were loathsome to her, they were very good, and they suggested a fixation. Ginny shuddered, despite the warmth of her bed. The thought of Malfoy fixated on her was frightening! She thought about the last picture, and shivered, telling herself it was with disgust. It was not because the picture of Malfoy wrapped around her, in a typical lover's pose had caused her to flush with some unknown emotion. It simply was not!  
  
After an hour of thinking, Ginny finally came up with a plan.  
  
Some months earlier, Draco Malfoy's life had been fairly simple. Get through the first term at Hogwarts and be rewarded by going to Durmstrang. He'd, not unexpectedly, anticipated that nothing would happen to disturb the normal flow of his life. That had changed abruptly when he'd walked in on Ginny Weasley.  
  
On the carriage from the station to the castle, he'd had to listen to Vince Crabbe drone on and on about the pathetic events of his summer. Draco had firmly put his sketchpad away, but had still found his hands itching. He would happily have strangled Crabbe, but Crabbe's droning voice offered at least some distraction from Draco's own confused thoughts.  
  
After dinner, Draco had gone to his room, now extremely empty with only himself, Crabbe, and Terry Boot. He couldn't understand the problem. He'd seen lots of girls (well, he amended, at least five or six) in the nude, or various stages of nudity. His taste ran to slender, but shapely girls with drop dead faces, gorgeous clothing and lots of money. His own looks and wealth had helped a lot, but more than that was his aloofness when it came to wooing the opposite sex. He didn't woo. And they seemed to like his hard-to-get manner, which wasn't faked. He WAS hard to get! As he thought, he'd tried to visualize even one of the girls he'd been with, but found the image of that damned skinny beanpole getting in the way! And why, he asked himself angrily? She wasn't above fair looking, she had no figure, and, hell, she was almost as tall as he! And her underthings weren't even decently sexy! Most of the girls he'd gone out with had been addicted to those 'fuck me' knickers in bright red, shining gold or silver, or wispy black lace. Or the ones that left nothing to the imagination like the demi-bras, the crotchless knickers, or the one-piece body suits.  
  
Ginny Weasley's bra had been in a horrible pale blue that made her already fair skin take on the marble hue of death! It had been of some synthetic fabric that was modest and almost (but not quite!) girlish. At least it hadn't had any bows or hearts on it. But it had been a front fastener! His pulse had raced just thinking of how simple it would have been to reach out and flip the thing open! But then what? She had almost no bust, no waist, and probably no hips. Built like a flipping boy! So why had the sight of her modest little bra strap slipping down her thin, freckled shoulder nearly sent him around the bend? Why had his fingers itched to slide under the stupid strap and push it back up where it belonged, tracing her arm along the way?  
  
As the school year went on, things went from frustrating to maddening! He'd never shared his little adventure in the loo with anyone. For one thing, nothing had happened except that he'd lowered himself to performing domestic chores for a poverty-stricken Muggle lover. Besides, there was no profit in spreading the tale around. If he offered to blackmail Weasley, she'd probably throw it in his face and tell him to go ahead. And she'd hate him more than she already did. Not, of course, that he cared about THAT! Also, the thought of Vince Crabbe or Terry Boot watching Weasley with a speculative gleam in their eyes frankly sickened him. But what he'd seen had begun to get to him. He couldn't seem to help himself. He watched her constantly. He'd seen Finnegan pursuing her, smiling that stupid smile of his that he seemed to think was so charming. Draco cursed as he saw how Finnegan made Weasley smile and laugh. And Weasley had been charmed. He knew he could never make her laugh like that; it just wasn't in him to be so flippant or light. It made Draco's blood boil to watch the two of them walking through the halls, hand in hand. Didn't Finnegan know how stupid he looked with a girl so much taller than himself? Didn't he have any pride? And while he watched, it was obvious to him that Finnegan was much more attached than Weasley. In fact, he didn't give them above two months before Weasley would call it off.  
  
But in the meantime, Draco felt like a poor orphan standing outside the window of a sweets shop, his nose pressed against the glass, hungering for what he couldn't have. And he hated it! He did NOT want Ginny Weasley. It was a temporary fascination. It was seeing her bra and wondering if her knickers matched! Oh, yes, that was a huge part of his obsession! He'd noticed instantly when she'd worn a black (for god's sake! Black under a white blouse!) slip and bra, even though she was careful to keep her robe closed. No one else seemed to notice. But when she'd sat down for breakfast that first morning, her robe had fallen open and the bottom edge of the black slip was visible for a second.  
  
Naturally he couldn't help wondering if she were also wearing black knickers. And black would be much better for her skin tone than that insipid blue! More elegant and dramatic. If he were in a position to say anything, he'd tell her to go for the dramatic colours. Not the 'fuck me' colours, of course, and no animal prints or metallics. But deep green, or midnight blue, or black, or even a rich burgundy; any of those colours would work. He was not, however, in a position to comment to Weasley about her choice of knickers. Not unless he wanted her to hand him his guts on a platter.  
  
He wondered that he'd never noticed the hard streak in the girl before. Oh, she seemed soft as a marshmallow, right up to the point where her look made you shudder and thank the fates she wasn't armed with a blunt object. He'd encountered that look a few times now. The first time had been in Hogsmeade. He'd been sitting there, minding his own business and watching Weasley occasionally. He was sketching, of course, alternately working on his mother's portrait and doing simple sketches of Weasley. He'd glanced her way and had seen Finnegan reach out and push her hair back. Draco had wanted to get up and pound Finnegan for his impertinence, but of course he didn't.  
  
Finnegan had run his hand down Weasley's arm, and then stopped. Draco knew immediately what he was doing. He was playing with the damned bra strap that Weasley was forever trying to hitch up! Why wasn't Weasley stopping him? She did, finally, and turned away to do the job herself. Draco couldn't tear his eyes away as she dipped her hand into her blouse and tugged the strap back. Good lord, he was practically drooling! That was when she'd seen him watching and had frozen him with that look.  
  
Things were definitely getting out of hand, though, because some of the other Slytherins were noticing his obsession. One of the fellows on his Quidditch team had even challenged him on it. He still couldn't believe it!  
  
"Malfoy, do you have a minute?" Charles Underwood had looked distinctly nervous, but firm.  
  
"What is it, Underwood?" Draco had asked, unaware of what the other boy wanted to talk about. He'd thought the sixth year wanted to discuss Quidditch.  
  
The other boy had motioned to two chairs well away from the main crowd (if you could call fifteen or so students a crowd) of Slytherins in the Common Room. Draco had raised his eyebrows. Secrecy when discussing practice in their own Common Room?  
  
Underwood still looked nervous, clenching and unclenching his hands and looking anywhere but at Draco. Draco smiled grimly. He enjoyed the effect he had on others, and liked the feeling of power it gave him. It was nice to know that some things were as they should be.  
  
"Well, Underwood? What do you want?" Draco used his slightly patronizing, slightly annoyed voice. It would tell Underwood that he had better things to do, so the boy would get right to the point.  
  
"We-ell," he said slowly, apparently uncertain how to proceed. He swallowed and started again. "There's this girl, you see. A sixth year like me."  
  
Draco was surprised. Underwood wanted advice on his love life? That was new. And it was something Draco wasn't about to get involved in. He held up his hand.  
  
"Sorry, lonely hearts isn't in my line," he said, standing.  
  
"Damn it, Malfoy, just sit down and listen," Underwood hissed, then grimaced.  
  
Draco looked at him, mildly shocked. Very few people talked to him like that. He had to give Underwood credit, though. The boy was standing his ground. Amused, Draco sat.  
  
"Well?" he prompted.  
  
"This girl, the one I like, she's a Gryffindor," Underwood began again.  
  
A Gryffindor? There were only three female Gryffs in their sixth year. Draco narrowed his eyes and looked assessingly at Underwood. The boy was as tall as Draco. He was probably what girls would consider good looking; better looking at any rate than Finnegan. It wasn't possible that he was interested in Weasley, was it?  
  
Charles stuttered to a stop again as he saw the look on Draco's face. He looked capable of murder at the moment! Draco waited a moment then snapped, "Well? This girl in Gryffindor? What the hell does that have to do with me?"  
  
"Er, nothing," Underwood stammered. "It's just that, well, oh, hell!"  
  
He stood and paced back and forth. Then he stopped in front of Draco and stared at him.  
  
"Look, I really like her, but she's best friends with that Weasley girl. And I've noticed you giving Weasley these looks! Its none of my business, but if you mess with Weasley, Violet will believe every bad thing she's ever heard about Slytherins! It might ruin my chances with her. Can't you just leave the Weasley girl alone? You're leaving after this term anyway. Besides, she never does anything to you."  
  
Draco couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't believe that this sixth year was actually questioning him about his actions! And he was warning him off Weasley! As though Draco had any interest at all in that skinny, plain beanpole! What the hell kind of looks did he think he'd seen Draco giving the stupid little weasel, anyway? Draco glared and stood up. Underwood was much bulkier than Draco, but the younger boy backed away.  
  
"You're right about one thing, Underwood," Draco said in a quiet, menacing voice. "Its none of your business."  
  
Charles didn't want this confrontation, but he didn't give up. Mustering up his courage, he said, "I know you don't give a damn about anyone but yourself, Malfoy, but I do. I care about Vi and I'm not going to let you hurt her friend. Leave Weasley alone!"  
  
He turned and stomped away, thankful that Malfoy hadn't decided to pursue the subject. Everyone in Slytherin knew Malfoy was wickedly good at boxing, and that he fought dirty. Charles knew that despite their weight difference, Malfoy would tear him up. When he slipped into his room and collapsed on his bed he realized that his knees were shaking!  
  
Draco watched Underwood go, wondering if he should beat the hell out of the other boy just on principle. He shook his head and sat down again, thinking furiously and absently twisting his ring. So Underwood had noticed Draco's obsession with Weasley? He wondered who else had noticed. Not Weasley herself. She barely noticed anything except that git Finnegan and her giggling, silly friends. And even Finnegan seemed to be moving out of the picture. Draco smiled grimly at Underwood's determination. He must really like that Violet person. Draco wasn't really certain which of Weasley's friends was Violet. They both seemed to melt into the background when Weasley was around. Of course, being nearly six feet and having blinding red hair did tend to make one stand out in a crowd. But it wasn't good that Underwood had noticed. What if he told his little girlfriend? And what if she told Weasley? Weasley might just wonder what was going through Draco's mind. She might get ideas. She might actually be deluded enough to think Draco LIKED her!  
  
Draco decided he had to get over this obsession he had with Weasley and her stupid, bloody knickers! Whatever it took! He was not going to watch her any more; he would not sketch her any more. He'd even burn the damned sketchbook! Hurrying to his room, he unlocked his trunk and removed the wards protecting it. He grabbed the book, relocked the trunk and rushed back to the Common Room. There were even fewer students still around, but too many for him to start tearing pages from the book and burning them. Draco sat down in one of the chairs away from the fire and opened the book again. His mother's portrait wasn't exactly what he'd planned. He had wanted only to capture her beauty, but the portrait was growing into something more.  
  
He saw her determination and her strength, not obvious, but there. He thought again about her words to him, still uncertain what she'd wanted. He had tried to look around himself; he'd tried to see others clearly, but he hadn't been very successful. And it was all Weasley's fault. Every time he started to browbeat or bully someone, he'd see Weasley, or think of her, or remember the look on her face when she'd said he was 'nice'! Disgusting! But then he'd look at the terrified little Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw and let them go. About the only real fun he was having this year was harassing Weasley's brother and his crowd. At least they fought back. He looked at his mother's face again and seemed to see a smile in the eyes. He didn't remember drawing that, so it was probably just his fancy.  
  
Draco automatically turned the page, cursing as he was confronted with the original sketches he'd made of Weasley. He'd caught the fright on her face when he'd first walked in on her, as well as the indignation she'd felt later. And those eyes! He'd first noticed them when he'd covered her mouth to keep her from yelling. While everything else about Weasley might be plain, or odd, or average, her eyes were startling. What business did she have to have such beautiful, large dark eyes in such a pale, ordinary face? He'd drawn endless pictures of just her eyes! But there were plenty of other pictures, too. In her robes, in her blouse, in just the bra and skirt. Her face, her shoulders, her long, strong hands. Draco looked at page after page, feeling the anger and frustration growing again. He was going to burn the whole damned thing right now, he vowed! Then he flipped to the last drawing.  
  
It was only a light pencil outline right now, but the content was obvious. Weasley in the mirror, as he'd seen her, but different. In this drawing, she wasn't alone. This time Draco had drawn himself in the picture. He was standing right behind her, with his arms wrapped around her and his face buried in the messy hair at her neck. This was one of the few he'd drawn of her that wasn't strictly what he saw. Because he knew he never had seen (and never would see, he was certain) that look of passion on her face. He'd drawn her with her eyes closed and her head thrown back, as though inviting him to leave off her neck and kiss her. His heart started pounding as he fished into his pocket and pulled out a pencil. He worked on the drawing, adding more detail, darkening and shading it. Her mouth was wrong. He'd seen it in a thin line in the mirror, but it was full and wide when she was smiling or laughing. And her bust wasn't as full as he'd drawn originally. And if he had his arms around her like that, he certainly wouldn't limit himself to her stomach! Gods, no! He erased, then redrew his left arm so that he was encircling her ribs, just teasing the front fastening of the ridiculous bra!  
  
Draco continued to draw, not noticing the passing of time or that the other kids had all finally drifted up to bed. When he finally sat back to look at the drawing, he frowned. He had no intention of ever letting Weasley see the drawings in the sketchbook, so he couldn't know that she would immediately recognize the tall pale boy pictured standing behind her. But he removed all doubt of the identity of the boy when he drew his father's ugly signet ring on the left hand.  
  
Draco was heading to the library, angry with himself. After he'd finished the drawing the other night, he'd been unable to toss the thing in the fire. Instead, he'd locked it away again, knowing that he couldn't let anyone else see it. It was more than just protecting himself. Anyone who saw the drawings now, especially the last one, would assume that Draco was sleeping with Weasley. It would be harmful to his own reputation, in view of his feelings toward Muggle lovers in general and Weasleys in particular. But it would be devastating to hers. Oh, everyone knew that many of the kids here were sexually active, and that some weren't very discrete about it. Big deal. And if anyone suspected that Weasley was sleeping with Finnegan (Draco felt his jaw tightening at the very idea), they probably wouldn't care. But Ginny Weasley was of that special breed of 'nice' girl who was supposed to go out with the captain of the Quidditch team, or become a prefect, or discover another use for dragon's blood, or do any of a hundred other 'special' things with her life. She was NOT supposed to go out with the enemy, and she would never, ever sleep with an 'evil' git, the son of a suspected Deatheater, like Draco Malfoy!  
  
Draco almost had to laugh at his own thoughts. Obviously no one at the school had seen the basilisk looks the girl was capable of. Nor had they noticed the way she could intimidate boys with a curl of her lip. Hell, she would have done great in Slytherin if she weren't so damned 'nice'. But that was beside the point. He had to stop drawing her, he had to stop watching her and he had to make certain no one ever got a glimpse of his drawings. He'd rationalized to himself that he had to keep the book so he could look back at it and laugh in a few months. Unfortunately, he was still carrying it around. He didn't feel safe leaving it in his trunk anymore. No knowing what Crabbe might do if he got bored enough. Draco shuddered at the though of Vince Crabbe drooling over his drawings of Weasley. And then he might say something to someone else, or show the drawings to others. No, Draco thought. He might not like Weasley, and he might hate her brother, but he couldn't let the pictures get around.  
  
He glanced at the library door, wondering why he bothered with his homework. He'd be gone in a month or so, anyway. But here he was, like a good little boy, working on high marks. He decided to make a pit stop first, so he didn't see Ginny Weasley, wearing what he called the 'basilisk' look, following him.  
  
When Draco entered the library, Weasley was already there, absorbed in whatever she was working on. Draco almost decided to come back later, but he remembered that she worked in the library now and would probably be there until closing. Stifling a curse, he moved toward the back of the room and sat down. Pulling out his homework, he inked his quill and then stared at the assignment. He read it once, re-inked the quill and read it again. For some reason the text was making no sense to him at all. Shifting in his seat, he tried once more. Damn! He'd read the text three times and hadn't understood a word! Draco glanced up, irritated, and noticed that he could just see Weasley between the rows of books. Her profile showed the long nose that seemed almost as trademark as the bright hair. She was pursing her lips and absently plucking at the lower lip with her long fingers.  
  
Draco felt his hands itching. He tried to concentrate on his homework, the fingers of his right hand idly twisting at the ring again. It was no good. Despite himself, against his will, he pulled his sketchpad from under his textbook and flipped to one of the less crowded pages. Setting the quill aside, he pulled a pencil from his pocket and began to draw.  
  
Thirty minutes later, Draco was disgusted with himself. The sheet of paper was now completely filled with Weasley. He really needed to get out of here! His obsession seemed to be getting worse! Shutting the sketchpad, he gathered his other things and headed for the door. He almost made it, too. As he opened the door, though, he glanced back and saw Weasley reach into her robe and pull at the bra strap again. Draco watched, transfixed, until she stiffened and rolled her shoulders. The spell seemed to have been broken. With a snort of self-disgust, Draco slipped out of the library, deciding to come back when everyone was at supper.  
  
As Draco walked along the hallway to the library a bit later, he was still arguing with himself about what to do with the sketchpad. Maybe if he burned it he wouldn't feel compelled to draw? Or maybe he'd just feel compelled to buy another one and fill it with more ridiculous pictures of a girl he loathed. He was completely caught off guard when the door swung open and smashed him in the cheek.  
  
The pain was immense! Like being slammed with a Bludger! He heard a feminine voice, a very familiar feminine voice cry, "Oh, my God!" just before he saw Ginny Weasley peeking around the door.  
  
She started to apologize but he yanked the door out of her hands before she could finish. Oh, lord, he thought, looking at her face. She was staring at him with those big, brown eyes, looking miserable. Draco tried to drag his eyes away, finally pressing the growing lump on his face and hissing in pain. But it did the trick. He pulled his hand away and looked at it, then glared at her. She looked so pathetically sorry that he grew even angrier.  
  
"Goddamnit, Weasley!" Draco hissed, too angry to say anything else. He didn't want to say anything! He just wanted to get away from that sorrowful look!  
  
He watched as she raised a hand to his cheek. Flinching away from her touch, he grabbed her hand and pushed it away.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Trying to have another go at me?"  
  
Draco was almost relieved to see her straighten up and assume the 'basilisk' look.  
  
"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said, perfectly composed now, her voice like a razor. "If I'd known you were sneaking around, I might have opened the door more slowly. But, then," she paused, getting his full attention, "I might just have shoved it open harder."  
  
"No doubt, Weasley," Draco said with a nod. She wasn't at all the sweet, fluffy little kitten everyone seemed to think she was. "Are you going to stand there forever, or get the hell out of the way so I can go in?"  
  
Draco felt a grim satisfaction at seeing confusion cross her face. She hadn't expected that. Now if she would just leave, he could breathe normally again. But the damned girl was following him!  
  
"Well?" he demanded.  
  
Weasley stepped away, finally, but wouldn't go! Instead, she reached up to touch his face again. Probably wants to gloat over the damage she caused, he thought. The thing was, he wanted to let her touch! And that was dangerous.  
  
"You should get some ice on that, straight away. It's going to look like someone socked you if you don't."  
  
"Fine, Weasley," he sneered. Damn, that hurt! But he wanted her to be mad again, not sympathetic. "You did it, you heal it. You've enough magic for THAT, don't you?"  
  
She glared at him, probably guessing that he was referring to her inability to do a simple cleaning spell.  
  
"Sorry, Malfoy," she sneered right back. "Healing's not my strong point. Especially when it's a conceited git like you!"  
  
Ouch! But it worked. She was finally leaving! Then he saw her hitch her shoulder up, trying to fix the damned bra strap again. He couldn't stop himself. He reached out and pulled her back. His eyes fixed on her sleeve, knowing he should stop, unable to do so. She was trying to pull away, but he wasn't ready to let her go yet.  
  
"You should do something about that, Weasley," he growled at her, his voice sounding husky and harsh to himself. Why couldn't she have just let him alone, he thought angrily. Instead, she had to look at him with those soft eyes and remind him of what he'd already seen and was dying to see again. He raised his hand to her arm and slipped his fingers under the sleeve of the robe. He heard a small sound come from her, but he couldn't stop.  
  
Draco trailed his fingers up her arm to the strap. Was it the blue one, he wondered? Or was it the black one she wore with the slip? He traced the strap, wondering what she would do if he followed the strap all the way to where it met the cup of the bra? Would the confusion on her face be replaced by rage or would she look as he'd drawn her? He was becoming hot, flushed; he could feel his breathing coming faster. The light perfume she wore was tickling his nostrils and his eyes moved from her arm to the full lips, only inches away. He was on the verge of finding out what she would do if he went farther when her body tensed. She must have finally remembered just who it was touching her and how much she hated him, Draco thought darkly. He suddenly realized how close he'd been to losing control and grew angry again. Pulling his wand from his pocket, he pointed it at her arm.  
  
"Unless you want every boy in school trying to, er, give you a 'hand', you'd better learn this little bit of magic." Draco was certain he wasn't the only one who had noticed her little 'problem' with her underwear. She'd better make sure she learned this spell, at least. He said the spell that levitated the strap back into position.  
  
Then she gave him the soft look again. Damn, that was enough. He couldn't take this anymore. He had to get rid of her once and for all!  
  
Ignoring the pain, he sneered at her. "Well, Weasley, do you think you can handle at least THAT little spell? Or is that not in your line, either?"  
  
It must have worked because she looked ready to slap him.  
  
"Huh, good thing I didn't expect to be thanked for my troubles. I'd be rather careful of slapping, though, Weasley. You never know who might just decide to hit back." And the retaliation might not be what you expect, he thought. He added for good measure, "And next time, Weasley, try getting something that actually fits."  
  
Weasley finally left and Draco slumped into a table at the back of the library. Gingerly touching the lump on his cheek, he brought his wand out again and placed a healing spell on the injury. Well, there was no doubt that she hated him now, he thought, relieved. Girls like her were dangerous. They made a boy think about what he was doing and where he was going in life. Draco did not need some girl making him think about his future right now. The near future was set; he was going to Durmstrang in a few months. He wouldn't think about the rumours of Voldemort's declining support and strength. He wouldn't think about how, at least four times in the last six years, that git Potter had upset Voldemort's plans. And he wouldn't wonder if, perhaps, he might not be on the wrong side of things. He would get through classes, keep to himself, and definitely not watch the little weasel any more.  
  
Draco had been fairly successful. The holidays were coming up and he would be off to Durmstrang. He'd been mostly successful in avoiding Weasley and in not drawing her. There had still been one or two times, like when she'd had half of her thigh showing in the Great Hall and Underwood had taken it on himself to shield the little weasel until she'd pulled herself (and her robe) together. Or when he had been going up the stairs while she was running down once. She had been in such a hurry she hadn't even noticed him. But he had noticed her. Her robe had billowed out and in her hurry her skirt kept flipping up just a bit. Just enough to expose the lacy slip. The BLACK lacy slip!  
  
However, Draco had firmly kept the sketchpad buried at the bottom of his trunk, with locks, wards, hexes and booby-traps on it. He silently smirked when he noticed Finnegan going about in a depressed haze. Weasley had obviously told him to bugger off. Well, he amended, she'd probably told him very nicely that she didn't feel the same way about him. That was what 'nice' girls did, and lord save him from all nice girls! Now he just had to concentrate on his main goal: Durmstrang. Once there, he would forget all about skinny Ginny Weasley.  
  
The school felt eerie and deserted as Draco made his way to the library. He'd avoided it like the plague since his last encounter with Weasley, but he would be leaving in two days and he wanted to see her just once more. For some perverse reason, he had talked his father into allowing him to stay at Hogwarts until after the Christmas dance. He wasn't taking a girl; he didn't even like dancing all that much although he knew how. But he had wanted to see everyone in all their finery one last time. Draco pulled the door open and looked inside. The place looked empty. Even the old bat, Madam Pince, wasn't standing at the desk like a watchdog. He entered and looked around, wondering whether Weasley were here or not.  
  
Now that he was leaving, he'd begun to feel nervous about the sketchpad again. He'd taken to carrying it around with him, keeping it close to hand. He wandered toward the rear of the library, thinking perhaps he should just leave. That was when he heard someone moving around in one of the aisles. He moved toward the sound and turned round a row of books just in time to see one of the library ladders rushing at him.  
  
Draco had been quick enough to move slightly aside so the ladder hit his chest, not his face. But, damn, it had hurt! He cursed loudly, then looked up to see Weasley looking down at him with a horrified expression on her face.  
  
"Goddamn, Weasley, do you EVER look where you're going?" he snapped at her.  
  
He watched her climb carefully down from the ladder, full of apologies. He cut her off, though. He didn't want that look again. He didn't want those eyes to soften or he'd be in big trouble. His rudeness didn't work this time. Weasley continued to look mournfully at him, twisting her hands and biting her full bottom lip.  
  
"Really, Malfoy, I am sorry! Can I do anything?"  
  
Yes! his brain screamed, visualizing several things she could do but that she probably never would. "Not bloody likely, Weasley," he growled. "What the hell were you doing, anyway?"  
  
She frowned at him and motioned to the books scattered around. "Well, that should be obvious. I was shelving books!" Then she knelt and began picking them up, reminding Draco of the day in the train, when she'd knelt to retrieve her sodden blouse.  
  
He cursed again and strode away. He slammed his books onto the table and stalked back. This wasn't what he'd had in mind when he came to the library. Kneeling, he asked, "Why the hell don't you use magic? Unless-- ."  
  
Good God, was she a squib? Didn't she ever use magic?  
  
"Don't even, Malfoy," she said irritably. "Of course I can levitate a few books. Madam P doesn't allow magic in the library."  
  
"Stupid," he muttered, now in an evil temper. "How're we supposed to practice when we can't use our talent? Where is the old bat, anyway? I expected her to be on our necks with all the racket you made."  
  
Weasley didn't answer; she just kept collecting the books. He brought the books he'd collected back to her, but stopped when he saw that she meant to try her balancing act again. He fixed her with a hard stare.  
  
"Go on, Weasley. I'll hand them up," he said angrily. He wasn't about to let her go rocketing about on the damned ladder again.  
  
He didn't like the look she gave him, as though she couldn't believe he'd actually offered to help her. His temper was already frayed and this wasn't helping.  
  
"I'm trying to study, Weasley!" he said by way of explanation. "The longer you're thrashing about, like a herd of dragons, the longer it's going to take me to finish. So let's just get this over with!"  
  
Weasley gave him a sort of shrug and then started climbing the ladder. It wasn't until she was at about step six that Draco realized he had a serious problem. With her up on the ladder, he would have the perfect means of answering the question he'd been obsessing over for the last four months. He had only to look up. Clenching his jaw, he fixed his eyes on the book directly in front of him and ordered himself not to move. He handed the first book up, wondering what the hell she was doing climbing up ladders in a skirt, without even the protection of her robe. Then he remembered that she seemed to forget modesty when she was dealing with something else. He held up the next book, but she seemed to be taking her time about shelving it.  
  
"Is there a problem, Weasley?" he asked through clenched teeth.  
  
"Actually, this book goes over there," she answered with a trace of nervousness. Draco assumed she was pointing, but he didn't look. As they were at the end of the row, he pushed the ladder the other way.  
  
"Just tell me when to stop," he ordered.  
  
After that, the shelving went along smoothly. Until Weasley nearly dropped a book. Draco had to look up to make sure she had it firmly, and that was when he saw her lacy slip again. She was reaching up to put the book in its place and a long stretch of thigh was revealed. Draco swallowed and looked back at the dwindling stack of books balancing on the lower step. He looked at the book he was clutching in his hand. Weasley seemed to be taking her sweet time, he thought angrily. He looked up again and saw that she was shoving the tightly fitting books apart, trying to make room for the one in her hand. And her skirt was flaring out away from her legs.  
  
Watching his hand with a kind of fascinated horror, Draco reached up with the book he was still clutching and touched her hem with the spine. Don't! he ordered himself. Don't do it! It was useless. He hooked the hem on the edge of the book and carefully pulled it out farther. The shadows under Weasley's skirt were so dark, Draco really couldn't see anything. Just a bit more should do it, he thought desperately. He moved his hand just a little more, when she seemed to just fly down the steps.  
  
Draco took a step backward, amazed at her speed. She was furious! Too late, Draco tried to avoid the blow, but Weasley was way ahead of him. He staggered back under its force and was only saved from landing on his arse by the shelves behind him. His cheek seemed to explode in pain and he dropped the book he'd been holding. His ears were ringing and he wondered wildly whether the sound of her slap could be heard all the way down in the dungeons. Draco shook his head, trying to clear it, when the hellcat was on him again.  
  
"You BASTARD!" she hissed. "You perverted SON OF A BITCH! What the HELL did you think you were doing!?"  
  
Weasley was still trying to get at his face, but he caught her wrists and held them away. What the hell had he been thinking, he asked himself? He didn't blame her for her anger! But he was surprised at her fury! He knew there was more to her than what most people seemed to think, but even he was taken off guard! She was yanking at her wrists, trying to free herself. Draco pulled her closer and tried to apologize.  
  
"Look, Weasley, I didn't mean--," he stopped. What could he say? 'Gee, Weasley, sorry 'bout that. Just wondering what colour your knickers are'? Oh, yeah, that would go down well.  
  
She gave him the basilisk look and threw his half-assed apology back in his face. Then she threatened to tell her brother about the incident. Draco felt his blood pounding. Let her tell Ron! He'd love to have someone to pound right about now. He couldn't believe he'd lost control, that he'd let this tall, gawky girl put him in such a humiliating position. He had to get control back!  
  
He jeered at her to go ahead and tell her brother. "He might be interested to know how you traipse around half nude, and how you're always tugging at your underthings in public," he added threateningly.  
  
Her face paled. So she hadn't told big brother about bad old Malfoy bursting in on her in the loo? He relaxed his grip as she stopped fighting. Her eyes had grown large and worried again and Draco almost apologized. Then her expression hardened.  
  
"Yeah, that's just what I'd expect from you, Malfoy," she hissed.  
  
Draco thought she was going to cry. Instead, she ordered him to go. No one ordered him to leave! He left when he wanted to!  
  
Giving her a last glare, he nodded. "Don't worry, Weasley. I was just leaving!"  
  
Draco didn't miss his books until much later. He was so mad at Weasley that he had stormed into Slytherin, grabbed his heavy cloak and gloves from his room and stormed out. He stalked to the main entry and left the castle, not caring whether anyone saw him or not. Then he walked. He walked to the lake, now partially frozen over, and stood for a while, watch the giant squid swimming in the unfrozen middle. He walked toward Hagrid's cabin, but gave it a wide berth. He wanted no dealings with Dumbledore's pet half-giant tonight. He walked to the fringe of the Forbidden Forest and contemplated going in, but decided against it. He knew some safe places in the forest, but he wasn't concentrating tonight and didn't want to be caught unawares by some prowling creature.  
  
It was very cold and there were several inches of snow on the ground, but Draco ignored the discomfort. He couldn't get the image of Ginny Weasley out of his head. Ridiculous as it was, she had trusted him. She should have known better, he told himself. If there was one thing a Weasley could bank on (and that certainly wasn't money) it was that they should never trust a Malfoy. That was just stupid. And even more stupid was his feeling of guilt for betraying that trust. He shouldn't feel guilty. It was Weasley's fault for not being more careful around him. She should have worn her robe. She shouldn't have let him help her. There must have been dozens of ways she could have prevented what had just happened. Why did he have to be the strong, moral one? That was a laugh in itself. And why shouldn't he have looked at what she seemed to be so openly flaunting?  
  
Draco's wanderings finally brought him to the potting sheds where he sat for a few minutes. Hell, he thought, now what was going to happen? He had no doubt that Ron Weasley would be out for his blood by breakfast tomorrow. He didn't blame him. He really didn't care. It wasn't Ron Weasley he was worried about. What would Ginny Weasley do to him? Ron was so straightforward that he wasn't a threat. But Ginny might be very dangerous. He considered her words as he sat, shivering, on one of the potting benches.  
  
She thought he was trying to humiliate her? Why she would think that when he hadn't said a thing about the loo, or Hogsmeade, or the library incident was beyond him. But it figured that she would think the worst of him. Unfortunately, when he thought about it he didn't have a satisfactory explanation for his behavior, either. Except lust. Obsession. Infatuation. Call it what you would, that was the only explanation he could come up with. He was lusting over a flat-chested, skinny, plain schoolgirl. All because of a brief glimpse of her bra and the constant wondering about the colour of her knickers!  
  
Draco's hands began to itch and he rubbed them together. The gloves were warm, but not designed for sitting out in the cold. In fact, he finally realized he was shivering. Disgusted with himself, he headed back to the castle, ordering himself not to pull the sketchpad out. He would leave it locked up tonight and maybe he would draw tomorrow. Draco was almost to the steps when he remembered that he'd left the sketchpad, and his textbook, in the library! Panicked, he burst into the castle and headed for the library at a dead run!  
  
Draco paced back and forth in front of the fire. He'd been up all night and was in a rotten mood right now. The librarian had just been locking up when he'd gotten to the library last night. After some initial grumbling she opened the door and let Draco in. He ran to the table where he'd set his books, but they were gone!  
  
"Is this what you were looking for?" Madam Pince held up a single Arithmancy book that she'd retrieved from the circulation desk.  
  
Draco rushed over and looked around the desk. "Where's the rest of it?" he demanded, trying to shove past the librarian and look behind the desk.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy!" she snapped. "There was no 'rest' of anything! This is all that was here! You can ask Miss Weasley! She's the one who brought this up."  
  
Draco stared at the woman, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Weasley had found his books? And now the sketchpad was missing? This was bad. Very bad.  
  
What was he going to do now? Draco asked himself the question over and over as he paced in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room. He'd skipped breakfast, wanting to put off the inevitable encounter for as long as possible. He knew, even if no one else in the school did, that Ginny Weasley had a filthy temper; it just took a lot to trigger it. He suspected that finding a sketchbook filled with drawings of herself in various stages of undress would be like igniting a bomb with a blast of dragon fire; explosive. He also suspected that she had a much more developed sense of revenge than her brother. Not that he'd ever seen any evidence of it, he just sensed it. Hell, he wouldn't have been surprised if she pounced on him in the Great Hall, downing him with whatever blunt object came to hand. And he didn't think she would sleep on it and decide there was no harm done, after all. If he knew anything about the girl he'd been watching for the last four months, she was still furious with him.  
  
Draco knew he could probably avoid her until he left tomorrow, but that would be cowardly. He would have to face her eventually, even if it was just to find out what she'd done with the damned book. After he disposed of it he'd probably let her take her revenge. But it would be where HE wanted, not by ambush. He would find a way to get her alone, without the entire school listening. Then he could go off to Durmstrang and forget she ever existed.  
  
Draco carefully approached the Great Hall for lunch. The students had been advised to eat up since there was no supper planned. Instead, there would be sandwiches at the dance and a light snack early for those not attending. He hadn't seen any sign of Weasley and wanted to keep it that way. He did not want her sneaking up on him. As he entered the Great Hall, he looked toward the Gryffindor table, but she wasn't there yet. Relieved, he moved to his table and sat, making sure his back was to the wall.  
  
He couldn't believe how on edge he was. Did he really think Ginny Weasley was capable of doing him any real injury? Oh, yes, he thought she would be capable of it if she were properly motivated. He'd provided her with all the motivation she needed, too. But was he really worried about getting hurt? That was the hell of it. He didn't give a damn about that. What he didn't want was a loud, large scene that would humiliate both of them. She could yell and scream and strike out at him as much as she wanted, as long as it was in private.  
  
The meal came and went without Weasley making an appearance. Draco wasn't sure if he were more disappointed or relieved. If she wasn't lurking in dark corners with a bat or a knife, she must be up in her dorm preparing for the dance. Maybe she really wasn't going to try anything after all? Draco shook his head. That was impossible. What was more likely was that she was waiting to take him unawares, like the dangerous animals in the Forbidden Forest. Just waiting until he was off his guard. He almost smiled. Few people knew he would be gone after tomorrow morning, and maybe Weasley was waiting until after the dance to retaliate, so she wouldn't get detention and miss it.  
  
Still looking over his shoulder occasionally, Draco made his way back to Slytherin to start packing and get ready for the dance.  
  
Ginny had expected to see Malfoy at breakfast, but the sneaking coward hadn't shown up. She remembered thinking he couldn't be a coward because he still challenged Ron and Harry even without Crabbe and Goyle to back him up. But why else would he miss a meal if he weren't afraid of what she might do to him? As she, Vi and Jess headed toward the stairs afterward, the Slytherin boy, Charles, hurried over to ask Vi (and Jess and Ginny, too, of course) if she'd like to stroll around the castle and look at the new snow that had fallen last night. Jess and Ginny promptly excused themselves, watching the couple shyly hold hands as they walked away.  
  
"I really think he likes her," Jess said quietly. "I just didn't believe it at first."  
  
Ginny shook her head. "Who would have thought? Our Violet with a Slytherin. Guess it proves what I've always said. Just being in Slytherin doesn't make you evil."  
  
Jess lifted an eyebrow at Ginny. "Oh, really? And which Slytherin are you talking about? Maybe a pale, blond-haired dragon of a Slytherin, hmmm?"  
  
Ginny flushed hotly. "Absolutely not. There are some of them that give the rest a bad name, and Malfoy's one of them!"  
  
Jess shrugged. "If you say so. I just thought I noticed you staring back at him ever since you and Seamus broke up."  
  
Ginny looked at her friend as though the girl had grown another head. "Are you nuts?" she demanded. "I can't stand him! I don't stare at him! I hate him!"  
  
She stopped suddenly, realizing that she probably seemed to be over- reacting. As far as Jess and Vi knew, Malfoy never bothered her. The worst that could be said is that he looked at her. They had no idea about the loo incident, or what had happened in the library, and they sure didn't know about the sketchpad. And she wasn't about to tell them about that, either! Sure enough, Jess was giving her that speculative look again. The smaller girl grinned suddenly.  
  
"'Methinks thou dost protest too much,'" she said wickedly. "Poor Seamus; losing to Malfoy. And poor Malfoy if he really does think he can 'handle' you!"  
  
At Ginny's continued protests, Jess just laughed.  
  
"Come on, Gin," she said finally. "Let's see what we're going to do with our hair for tonight!"  
  
Ginny looked in the mirror later and was glad she'd decided on the 'Breakfast' hairdo. It certainly did look sophisticated. Her dress robes were clean and pressed and looked beautiful. The colour perfectly enhanced her paleness without making her look sallow. And the cut was wonderful! A 'V' neckline that made her long neck look graceful.  
  
"Try this, Gin," Jess said, handing Ginny a cameo pin on a black velvet ribbon. It wasn't a diamond and pearl choker, but it looked just right. For just a second, Ginny wished she had a black sheath dress with a split up to her thigh and long black gloves, just like the actress in the film. But even with a sophisticated hairstyle, she didn't have the maturity to carry off such a dramatic look. She would just have to be satisfied with what she did have. And, hopefully, Malfoy would play right into her hands.  
  
She had already decided that she was going to bring a blank sketchpad with her to the dance (she knew she had one buried somewhere in her trunk) and pretend that she was showing the pictures to her friends. She would get them to laugh, as though they were making fun of Malfoy for being obsessed with her. Then, when he did something embarrassing, like storming up to claim his property, he would find out that she'd tricked him. And it would be he, and not she, that would be humiliated!  
  
Jess gave Ginny's hair a last pat and told her to go sit somewhere quiet where she wouldn't mess it up before the dance. Ginny nodded and decided to go sit in the common room and draw a few of her own pathetic doodles in the blank book. Her friends had to have SOMETHING to laugh at, and her drawing was pretty darned hilarious. Grabbing a pencil and both books, Ginny hurried down to the Common Room.  
  
Ginny had barely started on her drawing when Vi entered the Common Room. Her cheeks were flushed and the hem of her robe was soaking, but she looked very happy. That Charles fellow must be very special, Ginny thought to herself. Vi headed for the stairs, but spotted Ginny and moved toward her instead.  
  
"Ginny! Your hair looks wonderful!" she said, flumping into the opposite chair. "I didn't realize it was so late! I better get going if I'm going to be ready on time!"  
  
But she didn't seem in any hurry to 'get going'. Instead, she shook a few remaining clumps of snow off her hem and gazed steadily at Ginny.  
  
Ginny returned her gaze for a few moments, but, after that, she lowered her brows. Vi looked away immediately, blushing.  
  
"What is it, Vi?" Ginny demanded. "You're dying to tell me something, so just get it over with!"  
  
Vi smoothed her robe nervously. "What makes you think that?" she asked.  
  
"Hmmm," Ginny said as though considering. "Well, you want to hurry to get ready but you're not going, you're staring holes into me, and you keep opening your mouth to talk, just to close it again."  
  
"Oh, yes. I guess you're right." Vi looked away, still looking nervous.  
  
"Gods, Vi, do you think I'm going to bite your head off?" Ginny asked, amused. "Just tell me!"  
  
"We-ell," she said slowly. "I was just talking to Charles."  
  
Ginny laughed. "I bet 'talking' was the least of what you were doing!"  
  
"Ginny! We WERE just talking," Vi declared. "Well, mostly," she admitted, smiling. She frowned as she continued. "Anyway, we were talking and your name came up. So naturally, so did Malfoy's."  
  
"Naturally? How does my name naturally lead to his?"  
  
"Oh, never mind that," Vi told her crossly. "Just listen! Did you know Malfoy was transferring to Durmstrang during the holidays? He's leaving some time next week!"  
  
Ginny looked at Vi with wide eyes. Malfoy was leaving? She should feel elated, right? Instead, she felt.strange. Almost disappointed. But she wasn't about to admit that to anyone. Instead, she raised her fist in the air.  
  
"Wa-hoo!" she said loudly, causing heads to turn. More quietly she continued, "That's great! We should have a party the day after to celebrate!"  
  
Vi gave Ginny an appraising look. "Seriously, Gin? You're really glad? Because it seemed kind of like you were starting to like him, with the way you always watch him now."  
  
Great, Ginny thought. First Jess, and now Vi! "No way, Vi. There's no way in the world I could be interested in him! I hate him! Just like he hates me!"  
  
"Well, you see, Ginny, that's the problem! I don't think he hates you, and neither does Charles."  
  
This was next to enough. Ginny was going to quash these speculations right now!  
  
"Well, it must be, then. 'Charles' has said so, so that's that, right?" Ginny said sarcastically, giving Vi cold look. She didn't even realizing that she was scaring her more than just a little. "Well, you and Charles are wrong! The only reason Malfoy watches me is to humiliate me, got it? And the only reason I watch him is to plan how to keep him from doing it! So you can tell Charles." Ginny stopped suddenly when she saw how pale Vi had become. In fact, the poor girl was almost cringing in her seat.  
  
Ginny backed off, ashamed of herself. Neither of her friends knew why she despised Malfoy so much, so naturally they wouldn't understand her behavior. And she was behaving just as badly as ever Malfoy did, terrorizing her own friends. Maybe the sorting hat had been right. Maybe she belonged in the same group as Malfoy.  
  
"Look, Vi, I'm sorry. There are some things that have happened.Well, I can't tell you, but just believe me that Malfoy and I are not attracted to each other, okay?"  
  
Vi recovered immediately. She knew Ginny wouldn't harm her for anything. She did wonder, however, what could have happened that would make Ginny so aggressive? And that Ginny wouldn't tell her and Jess about it. She wouldn't ask, though. If Ginny had wanted to tell, she would have. Nodding, she stood.  
  
"Well, sorry, Gin," she said quickly. "I just thought you'd want to know. I'm going to get ready. See you in a bit."  
  
Ginny cursed herself as she watched Vi run up the stairs. She almost never lost her temper with her friends and she hated that she'd just done so. Damn Malfoy, anyway. If she weren't distracted with him, she would never have quarreled with Vi. Well, she'd just have to make it up to Vi somehow. Ginny looked down at the bit of a drawing that she'd made and sighed.  
  
She pulled out the other sketchpad and opened it to the final drawing. It still took her breath away, but she couldn't help admire Malfoy's skill once again. He'd actually made her look, if not beautiful, then at least desirable. He'd obviously taken almost as much care over this drawing as he had the portrait of his mother. Was that the work of obsession, she wondered? Her heart started racing as she looked at the picture. Had he drawn this to embarrass her? Or had he drawn what he wished he'd done? What would Ginny have done if Malfoy had come on to her in the loo, she wondered? Slap him, as she had done in the library when he'd looked up her skirt, she told herself firmly. There was no way she'd ever let him get that close to her! And yet.she looked at the drawing again, almost feeling his touch on her arm again. Ginny felt a shiver go through her and slammed the book closed. Damn, she would not imagine what it would be like! She wouldn't! She would embarrass him at the dance tonight, and good riddance to him when he left next week!  
  
Draco entered the Great Hall before the dance with just as much caution as he'd used earlier. He still hadn't seen Weasley and he was becoming as jumpy as a cat on hot coals. He wanted to confront her and get it over with, but she wasn't cooperating. There were few people in the Great Hall yet. He was early. Brushing a nervous hand down his immaculate dress robes, he wondered what she would wear. Regular school robes? Did she have dress robes? Draco took a seat near the door and waited.  
  
Ginny gave herself one last look before joining Vi and Jess downstairs. Vi had forgiven her for her bad temper and the girls were almost giddy with excitement. Colin would escort the three of them to the Great Hall, where Charles would join them. The hairdo was still intact, in spite of Ginny hauling her fitted dress robe over her head. Jess had wanted to give her a touch of makeup, but Ginny had refused. Even without it, she looked pretty darned good. Elegant, classy, just like Audrey Hepburn! And not very vengeful. She had second thoughts about the sketchpad. So Malfoy had drawn her, so what? He couldn't have shown the drawings around or Charles would have heard rumours about it and told Vi. Right? So, what harm really had been done, other than to her pride? But Malfoy couldn't get away with it, her other half declared! He had to learn that he couldn't go around humiliating people and get away with it. Before she could change her mind, Ginny snatched up the empty sketchpad and hurried downstairs.  
  
The music was just starting and Draco was still sitting, watching the door. There were a lot more people now, but Ginny still wasn't here. Draco looked to the dance floor where Parvati Patil had dragged one of the Ravenclaw boys out to dance. They were both smiling and laughing. Draco felt out of place in this laughing, friendly crowd. Just then the door opened and Ginny walked in. She was with her friends and their beaux, but she was alone. Draco could only stare. She looked so.different! Her hair was up and she was wearing a beautiful robe that looked like it had been tailored just for her. Her long, slender throat was encircled with an old- fashioned cameo choker, but it was just right for her. She wasn't wearing any makeup, but she didn't need any. Her eyes were, as always, dark and lovely.  
  
Draco noticed that he wasn't the only one staring. Nearly every unattached boy in the room seemed to be watching her, along with some of the boys who did have dates. Ginny didn't seem to notice any of it. She was casually chatting with her friends as the boys led them to a table. Draco was about to go ask her for a private word (hell, he was ready to demand a private word) when a sixth year Hufflepuff approached her and ask her to dance. She let him lead her to the dance floor where several other couples were now converging. Draco tried to keep her in sight, which should have been easy with her height, but he lost her in a few moments.  
  
When the boy walked her back to her seat, there was another waiting to ask her for the next dance. And so it went. Draco was becoming more and more irritated as the evening wore on. He was ready to grab her and drag her out of the Great Hall when Finnegan claimed her for a slow dance. Ginny hesitated, then agreed. Draco watched, seething, as Finnegan pulled her indecently close and had the nerve to rest his hand on her buttocks. She corrected his hand placement immediately, which prevented Draco from walking over and correcting Finnegan with his fists. When the dance was finally over, Ginny walked back to her seat, Finnegan close behind.  
  
Scowling, Draco watched as the young Irishman said something that made her laugh and smile. She even touched his arm, not seeming to notice Finnegan freezing at her touch. He smiled at her again and seemed to be asking her something, but she shook her head. He insisted, pulling at her arm. Draco was about to launch himself at Finnegan, but he saw Ginny give the other Gryffindor a sudden cold look. She shook her head again and he slowly nodded and walked away. Draco couldn't believe how relieved he was, even though Ginny now looked sad and depressed. She looked away from Finnegan's retreating form and suddenly met his eyes. It happened so fast that Draco had no time to react. In less than a second he was trapped by those sad eyes.  
  
This was awful, Ginny thought. The evening had been going wonderfully; she was laughing and dancing and really having a great time. In fact, she'd almost forgotten about the sketchpad, Malfoy, and her anger. She'd even felt good about dancing with Seamus; as though things were all right between them again. But then, after such a nice dance, Seamus had insisted, no, demanded that she go outside with him and talk. She shouldn't have danced with him, especially not a slow dance. Because she knew what he wanted to talk about. He wanted them to get back together! But she couldn't. Even though they were young, she suspected Seamus was very deeply attached to her; possibly even in love. She didn't feel the same; never would. She just couldn't lead him on. She'd told him no and finally he had gone away. She felt awful now, and embarrassed. What must Vi and Jess think? She looked away from them and found Draco staring at her. She had seen him earlier, of course, but was still undecided on what to do about him. But now he was watching her embarrassment and confusion once again! She felt all her anger welling up and could easily have thrown herself at him to slap the smirk off his face when she realized that he wasn't smirking. He'd seen the encounter with Seamus but he looked as though he was sympathetic, not gloating!  
  
Ginny couldn't take it. Compassion from Draco Malfoy was the last thing she needed. She would show him that she didn't want or need his pity! Snatching up the sketchpad from under the small clutch bag she had brought with her, she turned to Vi, who had just sat down again.  
  
"I'm going to show you something, Vi, and I want you to laugh, okay?" Ginny looked intently at her friend, willing the girl to understand.  
  
Vi gave her a curious look, glancing quickly down at the sketchpad. But she nodded.  
  
Ginny opened the book, giving Vi a huge, amused smile that froze as she saw the look of awe on her friend's face. Looking down, Ginny gasped when she saw the portrait of Narcissa Malfoy! She'd brought the wrong book!  
  
"Oh, wow! Ginny! Did you draw that? It's really good!" she exclaimed, reaching for the book. "Why on earth would I laugh at that?"  
  
Ginny snatched it back and slammed it closed, stammering some excuse. She looked over at Draco and saw his eyes widen with alarm. He stood and was hurrying over, just as Ginny had planned, but this was wrong! She wasn't supposed to bring the real drawings! She had to get out of here!  
  
Ginny jumped up and turned, running right into a young man carrying some drinks for himself and his date. As Ginny smashed into him, the drinks spilled all over the front of her new robes. Even while she was thinking this was too much like the loo, she pulled the book out of danger and shoved past, not even apologizing to the boy. Vi and Jess were ready to follow, but Ginny told them she'd be right back. They looked confused, and probably would have followed anyway but they saw Draco rush by, practically on Ginny's heels. They gave one another a look, and sat down. This was something Ginny would have to work out herself.  
  
Ginny burst out of the Great Hall, sweet, sticky liquid dripping down her front, the sketchpad tightly clutched in her hands. She looked around wildly, and hurried for the stairs. She heard the music well up behind her, then go quiet again, but she wasn't interested in whoever else had just left. She just wanted to get back to her room. Damn Malfoy, anyway. This was all his fault!  
  
What the hell did she think she was doing, Draco asked himself as he jumped up from his table. She wasn't really going to show his pictures to her stupid friends, was she? He finally figured out what her revenge was going to be: she was going to show his drawings around for the entire school to laugh at. Then everyone would know just how obsessed he'd become with this girl! Not if he had anything to say about it! Keeping his eye fixed on her, Draco made his way toward Ginny's table. He was almost there when he saw her snatch the book back from her friend and smash right into a boy behind her. It slowed her a bit, but she still the jump on him. She pushed her way through the crowd and disappeared out the door.  
  
Draco got trapped in a crowd of girls heading to the loo. Did they always have to travel in flocks, he wondered angrily, trying to get past them without actually knocking them all aside. Finally he made the door and slipped out. Ginny was nowhere to be seen. Then he heard her footsteps on the stairs and followed. She was just making the landing and starting up another flight. Draco ran faster, gaining on her. Thankfully there was no one else about to get in his way. Her long robe and the dress shoes she'd worn hampered her, and Draco was able to catch her up quickly.  
  
"Weasley!" he called when he was close. "Wait!"  
  
Ginny heard Draco's voice and panicked. She tried to go faster, but her legs got tangled in her robes and she nearly pitched headlong into the stairs. Before she could untangle herself, she felt the staircase begin to move and grabbed wildly for the railing, letting the sketchpad drop to her feet.  
  
Draco just had time to leap onto the stairway when it began to move. He held tightly to the banister, then, when he had his balance, he began to climb. Ginny saw him coming, but couldn't move.  
  
"Stay away, Malfoy!" she yelled, looking around to see where the staircase was coming to a stop. "Just leave me alone!"  
  
Draco was only a few steps away when the stairs jolted to a halt. Ginny snatched up the pad and flew up the remaining stairs. And skidded to a stop! The small doorway at the top of the steps led to a corridor only about ten feet long, which ended in a blank wall! She turned back, but it was too late. Draco was already off the stairs and moving slowly toward her. This was too much! Now feeling more angry than upset, she set her feet, dropped the sketchpad to the floor, and held her fists up the way her brothers had taught her.  
  
Draco eyed her warily. If it had been any other girl at school standing there ready to fight him, he'd be laughing his ass off. But he already knew how strong she was, he suspected that she might be just as dirty a fighter as he, and now she was cornered. He would win, if it really came to a fight, of course. He knew he would eventually overpower her if he just wanted to wrestle her to the ground. But he didn't want to fight with her. The thought of striking her made him shudder! He just wanted to talk, to get the stupid sketchpad back! It was his, after all! Holding up both hands to show he meant her no harm, he came a bit closer.  
  
She glared at him and firmly placed a foot on the sketchpad.  
  
"That's mine, Weasley," Draco growled as she kicked the book behind her.  
  
"Yeah? Well, come get it, Malfoy!" she snapped, lifting her fists higher.  
  
"Look, I just want the book back, right? I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
He watched her face freeze in the basilisk glare. He braced himself.  
  
"Huh, like you could, Malfoy," she jeered.  
  
They both heard the loud rumble as the staircase slid away and moved to its former position. She jumped, startled, and dropped her hands for a second. Her eyes flew toward the opening to the corridor. Draco lunged at her right then, taking her by surprise. But Ginny wasn't completely off guard. She stepped back and kicked out, catching him in the shin. Draco yelped and jumped back, grabbing his leg and hopping awkwardly on one foot.  
  
"Damn it, Weasley," he hissed, glaring at her and rubbing his shin. She DID fight dirty! "What the hell is your problem? That HURT!"  
  
"Oh, poor little baby," Ginny crooned in false concern. "And what were you going to do? Going to beat me up for your filthy little book?"  
  
Draco stared at her. She thought he would really strike her? Was she insane, or was it him?  
  
Ginny couldn't take his stare. She scowled at him and looked down at her new robes, now sticky and soggy. She was sure her lovely black slip and bra were equally soiled. Plucking the front of her robe away from her with distaste, Ginny pulled her wand from her pocket, gave Draco another glare, and waved it over the mess on her robes. She recited a cleaning spell Seamus had taught her when they first started going out. The liquid disappeared. Then she said another spell and the wrinkles that had formed on her bodice vanished. She had the small satisfaction of seeing the surprised look on Draco's face as she stuffed her wand back into her pocket.  
  
"I guess I do have enough magic for THAT little spell, right?" she demanded, throwing his words back in his face.  
  
He continued to stare at her, suddenly unable to take his eyes off her face. She wasn't an extremely pretty girl, but with her flushed cheeks and those beautiful eyes flashing at him, she was stunning. He had a feeling that he was wearing a ridiculous, infatuated look on his face, but at the moment he didn't care. Despite the basilisk look, he took an involuntary step and reached for her. She stepped back quickly, but came up short at the wall. Her foot hit the sketchpad and she glanced down at it. Snatching it up, she waved it in his face, causing him to step back or get whacked.  
  
"Just tell me why, Malfoy? What were you thinking?" Her lip started trembling, but she continued. " How many people did you show? Did you tell everyone about the loo? How many people are laughing at me?"  
  
Draco ran his hands through his hair and cursed. He still didn't know what to say, and watching those beautiful eyes fill with tears only made him more distracted.  
  
"Show? Tell? I think you really are insane!" he snapped, suddenly angry that she was causing him so much turmoil. "Who could I show? Or tell? What would I say? That I saw Ginny Weasley's simple, innocent, silly little bra and it drove me crazy? That all I could think about was whether blue was the only colour she had? Gods! And who the hell wears black under a white blouse? Do you know I drove myself crazy wondering if your knickers matched? I'm so obsessed with a girl who loathes me that I followed her around, hoping for another peek at her underthings. And if that isn't bad enough, this girl, this skinny shrew of a girl who also happens to be my enemy's little sister, has me so worked up that my teammates were noticing!"  
  
He paced back and forth before homing in on her again. "And what would my so called friends think? They'd think that I was obsessed; infatuated! They'd think that I couldn't get this foul-tempered harpy off my mind! And they'd probably assume my drawings were wishful thinking, because there would be no way I could know what Ginny Weasley's knickers looked like because a 'nice' girl like her wouldn't have anything to do with me!"  
  
Draco had been advancing on Ginny, backing her into the corner, until she'd come up against the walls. Then he placed his hands on the walls on either side of her shoulders, trapping her as he continued his tirade. Ginny was so surprised that she barely had time to bring her hands up to his shoulders to push him away, before he was practically nose to nose with her!  
  
"And you know what else, Ginny?" Draco felt himself losing control and fought to regain it, but he couldn't seem to stop the flood of words, embarrassing, humiliating admissions, from coming out of his mouth. "You know what?" he said again. "They'd all be right, damn you!"  
  
Gods, what was wrong with him!? He'd just admitted that he was obsessed with her! He stood, breathing heavily and glaring at her. Her expression went from angry to disbelieving to shocked. The wide brown eyes searched his for a second before he made an angry sound and twisted away.  
  
"Of course I didn't tell anyone. Do you think I wanted every other randy git in the castle ogling you? It was bad enough with Finnegan mooning over you, and he never saw nearly what I did!"  
  
Ginny was speechless, trying to absorb everything he'd told her. He hadn't spoken about the loo, or what had happened in the library. He said he was obsessed with her, or rather, her knickers! He hadn't even shown anyone his drawings. Did that mean he liked her? That was insane. She looked at the book in her hands and absently opened it to the last picture. Was this what he wanted?  
  
"Tell me, Ginny, what would you have done if I had tried to kiss you in the loo? Honestly?"  
  
Ginny stiffened. She'd asked herself that question just hours ago. She still came up with the same answer.  
  
"I'd have slapped you into next week, Malfoy," she retorted.  
  
He nodded. "And if I'd tried to kiss you in the library, that first time?"  
  
"I, er, still would have slapped you," she said, only a little less firmly. To be perfectly honest, she wasn't sure what she would have done.  
  
Draco eyed her carefully. He moved a step closer, backing her into the corner again. Ginny brought a hand up to his chest to hold him away. He stopped and placed his hands carefully on either side of her, trapping her.  
  
"And if I tried now?"  
  
Ginny looked straight into his eyes, wondering what he was playing at? And what would she do? She shrugged and tried to stall.  
  
"I, I don't understand why you're asking," she said hesitantly. "You hate me, don't you?"  
  
Draco scowled at her but she was glaring at her shoulder. Her shrug had dislodged the stupid strap again. She reached over to drag it back up, but stopped when he placed his hand over hers.  
  
"Yes," he said quietly, moving even closer. "I hate you very much. As much as you hate me. Do you hate me, Ginny?"  
  
Ginny caught her breath. His voice was so soft and husky. And he was speaking right in her ear. Did she hate him? She could feel her heart start to pound as he reached for the sketchpad and dropped it to the ground again.  
  
"I don't want you," she breathed in a wispy voice she didn't recognize. "You're conceited and mean, and you, you despise my family!"  
  
He brushed his cheek against hers and slid his hand down her sleeve. "I don't want you, either," he insisted. "You're 'nice', and you could freeze a boy with one look! You're family doesn't appreciate pure blood!"  
  
Draco could feel his control slipping again. He struggled to get a hold of himself, but found himself pressing ever closer to her. His hand had reached the cuff of her sleeve and he slipped it under. He shivered when he felt only smooth skin. She was wearing only the dress robe and her underwear! His hand slipped higher, to the taut skin on the inside of her elbow. Ginny gasped, but didn't move away.  
  
"You watch me," she accused, letting her free hand rest on his chest. She could feel that his heart was pounding as hard as hers was. "You always catch me embarrassing myself! And-and those drawings." She let the last statement hang.  
  
"I watch you because I can't help it! I draw you because you're all I see!" he answered as his fingers brushed the silky strap. He made a sound that was almost a sigh as he slipped his hand under the thin strip of material. "You make me crazy. You and this stupid, damned strap!"  
  
Draco pushed away slightly to look into her eyes. "This strap and those eyes!" he breathed, moving his hand upward, taking the strap with it.  
  
Ginny half closed her eyes, unable to stop him. His fingers were leaving a trail of fire in their wake and she felt herself tremble as he stopped at her shoulder. He left his hand there, under the strap, resting on her shoulder. He brought his other hand up to her other shoulder and gripped her firmly. He leaned forward, stopping barely a half-inch from her lips.  
  
"I'm going to kiss you, Ginny," he murmured. "Should I be prepared to duck?"  
  
Ginny's eyes had closed, but she opened them again and smiled. "I guess you'll have to take your chances, right?"  
  
Draco grinned. How on earth had he resisted this for so long, he wondered, brushing her lips with his. He could feel her smile as he covered her mouth. He wanted to be in control, but when she melted against him and wrapped her arms around his back he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Gods, she tasted good, he thought to himself. She was still dangerous and unpredictable, especially now that she knew his weakness for her and he cursed himself for being so weak. With a mighty effort, Draco pulled his lips from hers and waited.  
  
He stepped back a bit and watched her face. Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted. He thought he could look at her flushed face and soft lips forever. When she opened her eyes, Draco braced himself for her attack. She might slap or hit or just yell, but whatever she did, he wanted to be ready. But he wasn't prepared for what she actually did.  
  
She didn't attack him; she did something much more devastating. Her dark eyes widened slightly, then she launched herself at his neck, wrapping her arms around him tightly and pulling his mouth back to hers. When her mouth covered his, she thrust her tongue into his mouth, teasing and caressing as though she couldn't get enough of him. Draco was so surprised that at first he just stood there. As she kissed him more insistently, his knees grew weak. All Draco could do was to stumble back into the wall, pulling her with him, and holding her tightly.  
  
Ginny couldn't stop the tremors that were traveling through her! Her sappy romances had been wrong, but only because they weren't even close to this reality! She had never felt like this with Seamus! Everywhere Draco had touched her, she felt hot and tingly. Wanting to make him feel the same, she pushed her tongue deep into his mouth to taste and caress. She felt his body stiffen in response, and wondered if she'd repulsed him with her sudden aggressiveness, since he was supposed to be power mad. But when she tried to pull away, his hands tightened on her shoulders and she felt relieved. He dragged her with him as he leaned against the wall and began to stroke down her back. Ginny pressed against him, wanting to feel his body against hers. But he was just letting her kiss him; he wasn't kissing her back! Her hands moved to his face and she pulled away to look into his eyes.  
  
"Am I doing something wrong?" she asked quietly, embarrassed. "I know I'm not very good at this."  
  
Draco looked at the worried expression and almost laughed. "Gods," he breathed. "If you were any better, I'd probably have a heart attack!"  
  
He pulled her to him again and took her lips in a devouring kiss. Ginny felt a thrill go through her. This was what she wanted! Her hands fisted in the loose material at the back of his robe as she pressed close again. He ran his hands down her back and gripped her waist. He pulled her hard against him, groaning as she moved against his overheated body. Her hands moved from his back and began to work the knot in his tie. Good lord, he thought, he'd never felt like this before! And she was only kissing him! The knot slid loose and she immediately attacked the buttons on his shirt.  
  
He brought his hands up to the front of her robe, ready to push the soft material aside and stroke over her bare skin. He stopped. She had already loosened his robe and freed half of his buttons and now she was trailing her mouth over his jaw and down his neck! As her mouth moved lower, her hands started freeing more buttons. Draco shuddered as she began tugging his shirttails from his waistband. He was shaking, but just managed to grab her hands.  
  
Ginny had lost all control of herself. She couldn't help it! She had never been tempted to do more than kiss Seamus. He'd wanted more, but she always put the brakes on early. But she couldn't seem to get enough of Draco! His hard, lean body was tense against hers and she could feel him tremble at her touch. All she wanted now was to touch more and more of him! She could feel his blood pulsing rapidly at his neck, but she had to see more, feel more. She attacked his robe and shirt as though they were living things fighting her. Pressing kisses to any bare skin she could find, she tugged at the shirttails. Then his strong hands closed over hers!  
  
"Wait, Ginny!" he said, his voice desperate.  
  
Ginny stopped abruptly, embarrassed that she'd practically ravished him. Heat crawled up her neck and she knew she would be turning bright red by now. She tried to lighten the situation.  
  
"Well, I guess that answered your question. What would I do if you tried to kiss me now? I'd rip your clothes off. Then you'd have to fight me off to defend your virtue!"  
  
Draco stared at her for a second, taking in the embarrassed smile. Then he laughed and gathered her into his arms. Ginny wrapped her arms around him, not certain she really thought it was funny, but comforted that he hadn't stopped her because he was disgusted. She didn't know exactly why he'd stopped her, but she would find out, she was sure.  
  
He pushed her away just enough to look at her. She was still embarrassed, but she wasn't angry or hurt. He sighed and pulled even farther away from the delicious warmth of her body.  
  
"I-I have something to tell you," he said finally. "I wanted to explain. About the pictures and the other night, and, you know, everything. Then I was going to let you take whatever revenge you wanted."  
  
Ginny thought about that for a moment and nodded, but moved in closer. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against him.  
  
"I suppose you're lucky I didn't have Ron's bat with me tonight," she joked. "Er, do you mind if I stay like this while you tell me whatever it is you're going to tell me?" she asked, nestling her cheek against his shoulder.  
  
He chuckled and she smiled as his breath tickled her ear. "If you stay like this," he said, giving her a squeeze, "you might just need Ron's bat. I can barely think right now, let alone talk."  
  
Ginny smiled again. "Talking is highly overrated," she told him. "Since you're leaving soon, wouldn't you rather be, er, doing something more productive?"  
  
He stiffened and pulled her chin up to look at her face. "You knew I was leaving? How?"  
  
"Charles told Vi, Vi told me." Ginny shrugged, ignoring the strap that had slid down. "She just didn't know exactly when."  
  
He raised one eyebrow. "And what did you do when you found out?"  
  
Ginny grinned, embarrassed, and dropped her head. "I cheered," she admitted. "I said we should celebrate the next day."  
  
She gave him another shrug and explained, "That was before I knew what an evil seducer of poor, innocent, defenseless little girls like me you were. And how good you are at it."  
  
He started to say something, but couldn't seem to think of an appropriate comment at first. Then he said, amazed, "Defenseless? Innocent? I think dangerous and unpredictable is more accurate, don't you?"  
  
Ginny batted her eyelashes and said, "Dangerous? Me? I think you must be temporarily insane, Malfoy."  
  
"Its Draco," he replied, "And the only insane thing I ever did was to let you get away without kissing you in the loo!"  
  
"Yeah," she agreed. "Maybe you should correct that mistake right now. Especially if you're leaving next week."  
  
She leaned against him and started to press her lips against his, but he caught her shoulders and stopped her again.  
  
"Ginny, I'm not a noble person and this is hell on me! But I have to tell you, before I do anything you might regret, that I'm not leaving next week." He looked sadly at her as he continued. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning."  
  
Ginny stared at him for a second, sure she had heard wrong. "T-tomorrow?"  
  
He nodded and pulled her against him, holding her tightly. "Lord knows I'd love to make up for all the time I wasted but I wanted you to know first. I'll probably be gone before you wake up."  
  
Ginny bit her lip. What a mess. She was in lust. Draco was apparently in lust. And he was leaving tomorrow. He was being honorable by letting her know that if they started something, he wouldn't be around to finish it. Ginny shyly began to re-button his shirt.  
  
Draco watched her closely the whole time, damning himself for the unexpected fit of nobility that had made him stop her before they went too far. That was not like him, at all. But he couldn't have done anything else, he realized. Not with this girl. When she'd tightened the tie, he wrapped his arms around her and held her against him.  
  
Finally she said, "That's not much time, but there are SOME things we could do until you have to go, right?"  
  
She promptly began to blush again. Would he want to kiss her, knowing it wasn't leading anywhere? He lifted her chin again and Ginny caught her breath at the expression in his eyes.  
  
"You mean like this?" he breathed before covering her mouth again.  
  
She didn't really know how long they stood there, kissing and hugging. It was quite some time, though, and what brought them back to the present was the sound of the stairs, moving again, sliding back into position at the entry of their hidden corridor. Draco pulled his mouth away from a particularly ticklish spot on Ginny's neck.  
  
"Damn," he muttered. "Do you think it'll go away if we ignore it?"  
  
Ginny turned and muttered her own expletive, causing Draco's eyebrows to shoot up. Suddenly Ginny giggled. Draco looked at her, giving her a questioning look. She caught his eye and laughed louder. He gave her a twisted smile, still a bit bemused.  
  
"What's so damned funny?" he demanded.  
  
"Nothing!" she gasped. "It's just that," she couldn't seem to get the words out.  
  
Draco frowned, trying to catch the words she was struggling to get out.  
  
"Never-noticed-me-before! All-because-," she choked between laughs, "of- knickers!"  
  
Draco finally understood. He wouldn't have noticed her if he hadn't walked in on her in the loo and become obsessed with her underwear! He started chuckling himself. It was funny in a twisted sort of way, when you thought of it! Soon they were both laughing uproariously. Ginny had collapsed on Draco's chest and could barely breathe. Draco wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly. As their laughter finally subsided, though, he pulled her chin up again.  
  
"You're wrong, you know," he murmured, brushing her lips with his. "I think I would have noticed you, no matter what."  
  
Ginny smiled as he kissed her. She doubted he would have looked at her twice if he hadn't seen her half nude first, but it was nice of him to say so. Then he touched his tongue to her lips and she forgot about everything else.  
  
He pulled away quickly, though. Looking toward the stairway, he sighed.  
  
"No knowing when it's going to be back," he said with a frown.  
  
"I guess we better get on while we have the chance?" she suggested.  
  
Draco didn't want to. He had such a short time left. And despite what had happened here, he knew that they might go back to being enemies as soon as they stepped onto the stairway. Straightening, he stepped away from the wall he'd been leaning against since her first devastating kiss. He picked up the sketchpad and handed it to Ginny.  
  
"Burn it," he said suddenly.  
  
"Burn it? Why?" How could he suggest that she destroy it now? Was he ashamed?  
  
"What if someone sees it? Think of your reputation! Your family would never forgive you if they thought you were sleeping with me!"  
  
Ginny frowned. "Are you sure you're not more concerned with YOUR reputation? I'm not up to your usual standard, right?"  
  
Draco sighed. Maybe the stairway would move, after all, if they were going to sit here and argue about something so stupid.  
  
"Do you really believe that?" he asked.  
  
Ginny looked at him, hard. She knew that he could probably make her believe whatever he wanted, damn him. And she wanted to believe that he was really just trying to protect her.  
  
"No, I suppose not," she said finally.  
  
"Good!"  
  
He took her arm and led her to the staircase. He pulled her around to look at her, smoothing back the tendrils of hair that had come loose.  
  
"I love your hair like this," he murmured, tucking a strand behind her ear. "You look-stunning."  
  
She smiled at him, making his heart thump. God, those lips were just made for kissing! Instead of kissing her, though, he took her arm again and stepped onto the stairway. As soon as they were both firmly on it, it moved to a different archway. This one led to another staircase that would take them up to Gryffindor or down to Slytherin. As they moved onto the landing, Draco took Ginny's hand. He became very serious.  
  
"Tell me I'm the first one to really kiss you!" he demanded suddenly. "Tell me that Finnegan didn't count!"  
  
"I-er, no one ever kissed me like that, Draco," she admitted, feeling a bit guilty, but knowing it was true. "You're the only one who made me feel that way!"  
  
"Good!" he said. "I wish we had more time. I-we-ah, shit!" He looked away, his expression as bleak as she'd ever seen it. "I-I'll probably never see you again."  
  
Ginny nodded sadly. He would go to Durmstrang and forget about her. He would follow his father and become a Deatheater. He would fight for You- Know-Who and become her enemy again.  
  
"Will you write me? At least once?"  
  
Ginny stared. His question was completely unexpected and it took her off guard.  
  
"Of-of course! If you want me to!" she stammered.  
  
He reached out and pulled her into his arms once more. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't want you to," he told her. "Now, kiss me and tell me good-bye. I'll be gone early."  
  
Ginny kissed him, hard, with all the feeling she could put into it. When they finally broke apart, Ginny had tears in her eyes. It wasn't fair! But she wouldn't let him see her cry!  
  
Giving him a small smile, she said, "If you write me, I'll write back. Good night, Draco. And good-bye! Take care of yourself."  
  
Then she turned and fled.  
  
Draco knew he wouldn't get any sleep. He'd wanted to confront Ginny and get everything out in the open. He'd had no idea things would end up as they had. He had told her the truth, though, on more subjects than he'd bargained for. He was convinced that he would have noticed her anyway, one way or the other, even if the train incident hadn't happened. He'd told her how he'd been obsessed with her and her damn knickers. He'd even confessed that his drawings, especially the last one, had been wishful thinking on his part. And she had accepted his explanations with humor and with an affection he had no right to expect. But he'd kept one important truth from her. He hadn't told her that after their first kiss, he'd not only lost control, lost his head, but he'd lost his heart. And since he'd never see her again, he would never tell her.  
  
He paced up and down the Common Room until it was time to leave. House- elves came for his trunk, whisking it away. He followed more slowly, wishing, despite the early hour and not telling her when he was leaving, that Ginny would suddenly appear, running down the stairs to say good-bye. He didn't look up, though. He knew she wouldn't be there.  
  
Professor Snape, however, was there, at the door, waiting for him. Draco wondered what Snape wanted. To congratulate him for finally escaping this pile?  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape said in his usual dry voice. "So, you're off to Durmstrang, after all?"  
  
Being Draco's Head of House, Professor Snape had naturally been told. Draco nodded.  
  
"Yes, sir," he said. "It's what I've been waiting for."  
  
Snape raised one eyebrow. "Indeed? Even after last night?"  
  
Despite his surprise, Draco kept his face neutral. "Last night, sir? Did something happen last night?"  
  
Draco didn't like the smile that crossed the Potions Master's face. It was a smug, knowing smile. "Obviously not, Mr. Malfoy. One apparently can't believe everything one hears."  
  
Then Snape dropped the smile. "Regardless of whatever did or didn't happen last night, Mr. Malfoy, it's not too late to change your mind. You can finish your year here, and then, if you still feel compelled to follow that path." he left the sentence to hang for a moment.  
  
What was he trying to get at, Draco wondered? Was Snape really trying to warn him away from Durmstrang? Did he really think five more months of this place might make any difference in Draco's life? Or had his father set this up as a sort of challenge to test his resolve? Ginny's face flashed in front of him, and he hesitated. If he stayed, he'd be able to see her again. Every day! Hell, who knew? They might even be able to work things out. Abruptly, a vision of Ron Weasley and his family, along with Potter, Granger, and even Ginny's two friends, ostracizing her for being with him assailed him. All the wishful thinking in the world wouldn't change the way most everyone here felt about him. Nor would it change the way he felt about most of them. He straightened his shoulders and tugged his gloves on.  
  
"I'm not changing my mind, sir," he finally answered. "I'm meant for Durmstrang. I should have gone there from the start."  
  
Snape frowned, but nodded. "Just remember, Mr. Malfoy, your destiny isn't written in stone. You may always change it, if you're strong and if you want to. Good luck, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
Draco took the hand the Potions Master offered, then pulled up the hood of his cloak. He stepped out of the warm castle into the cold of pre-dawn. It was still very dark, and a light snow drifted from the cloud-choked skies. Draco ran down the steps to the waiting carriage. The door opened and the step lowered. Draco put his foot on the step, and turned for one last look at the castle. As he looked up, the castle door opened and a tall, slender figure waved to him. Ginny! The carriage began to move and Draco leaped into the doorway. He stuck his head out of the window and waved wildly. Ginny waved back and started down the steps, almost slipping. Draco saw Professor Snape hurry out to help her. She shook off his hands and waved again. He watched, waving, until the carriage swept around a curve and out of sight.  
  
Ginny was just sitting down to breakfast when Vi, Jess and Colin joined her. Vi was spending almost all of her free time with Charles, and Jess and Colin were now officially going out. After the Christmas holidays, many boys had wanted to go out with Ginny, but she wasn't interested. Oddly, no one seemed to have noticed Draco following her out of the dance except Vi and Jess. So no one seemed to connect her sudden withdrawal with Draco's transfer to Durmstrang. Jess and Vi had finally cornered Ginny and forced the story from her. They had enough of the small details to know there was one big story there, so she finally told them to get them off her back. They were astounded, to say the least. It had been a nine-days wonder, to be sure, but the novelty finally wore off.  
  
March was here, and Ginny had gotten two letters from Draco. The first was short and impersonal. He gave her his address, asked her again to write, and said briefly that he missed her. That was all.  
  
She'd written back; not a gushing love letter, but a letter telling him what was happening, what she'd been doing, and that she, too, missed him.  
  
His next letter had been much longer. The Durmstrangers were just as idiotic as most of the Hogwarts bunch. The main difference in the schools seemed to be that Durmstrang concentrated on teaching more about the Dark Arts than did Hogwarts. It was horridly cold, and much too far away. He told her that he was still sketching, and now even played with paints a bit. He hoped she'd taken care to make sure no one would ever see the sketchpad except herself. He missed her. He'd had a letter from his mother that was a bit worrisome but he would give her more details when he had them. He'd signed it simply, 'Draco'. Ginny sighed as she watched the owls deliver the mail. The last letter had been a month ago and she had answered it with more eagerness and affection than she'd meant to. She hadn't received a return letter.  
  
Maybe he had put their encounter into proper perspective, she had decided. It wasn't as though they'd known each other all that well. It was just a case of unrequited lust. Ginny told herself that she was probably better off without someone like Draco Malfoy, anyway, knowing it was bullshit, but needing to find an excuse for him forgetting all about her.  
  
Ginny couldn't forget him, though. Stupid as it was, she felt like he was branded on her heart. She kept remembering that last night, after the dance. The few kisses had been breathtaking and beautiful and she wished wistfully that there had been more time for them to be together. And she couldn't forget that he had stopped her when she'd practically dragged his clothes off. He had been honorable, not letting things get out of hand when he wouldn't be there for her later. It was a good thing, too. She'd feel even worse if she'd slept with him and he'd forgotten her so quickly.  
  
One particularly large and handsome owl suddenly landed right in front of Ginny. There was a small letter in its claw. Ginny gasped as she recognized Draco's owl. His last two letters had been from school owls! Ginny took the letter quickly, glancing down the table to see if Ron or his friends had noticed. They were chatting away contentedly, not looking at her. She offered the handsome creature some of her breakfast, but it rustled its wings and took off.  
  
"Wow, Ginny!" Jessica turned away from Colin for a second to grab Ginny's arm.  
  
"That was Malfoy's owl, wasn't it?" she whispered.  
  
Ginny nodded, unable to stop a silly smile. He hadn't forgotten about her!  
  
"Well, open it!" Jess urged. "Or are you going to lock yourself up in our room and miss Hogsmeade again, to read his letter?"  
  
Ginny had skipped the last two trips into town, not feeling like going. She didn't want to read the letter here, though. She grinned at Jess. "Maybe," she said happily.  
  
Dear Ginny, I'm sorry it's been so long, but I've been very busy. My mother has left Father and I'm going to escort her to family in France. When I get her settled there, I'll return to London. I have some family matters to clear up, and then I'll be working at my new position. I'm sorry I can't tell you more about it, but remember that you're always in my thoughts. I wish things had worked out differently. (there was something scratched out here) I have to hurry now, but when you go to Hogsmeade next, be sure to stop at the post office. There should be a package there for you. When you look at it, remember me and what could have been. (another scratched out line)  
  
Take care of yourself, Draco  
  
"Ginny! Wait up!" Vi called.  
  
Ginny had joined Jess and Vi as they were leaving the Common Room. They were going to meet Colin and Charles in Hogsmeade and as soon as they'd left the Hogwarts grounds, Ginny had started walking fast.  
  
As the two shorter girls caught up with Ginny, Jess grumbled, "What's the rush? Is Hogsmeade going somewhere?"  
  
"I just want to get to the post office," Ginny answered. "Do you mind if I meet you at the 'Broomsticks?"  
  
Vi panted with the exertion of trying to keep up with Ginny's long legs. "Go ahead," she said, making 'shooing' motions. "We'll see you there."  
  
Ginny entered the post office and walked to the counter.  
  
"Need an owl, dear?" the woman behind the counter asked.  
  
"Er, no, I think there's a general delivery package for me," she said nervously.  
  
The woman smiled and nodded. "Right, then. Your name?"  
  
"Weasley. Ginny Weasley."  
  
The woman bustled out of view. Ginny could hear her rummaging around, mumbling to herself. Then she called, "Right, dear, here it is."  
  
The woman brought out a large package. It was about a foot square and three inches deep. Ginny looked curiously at it, wondering what on earth it could be.  
  
"There you are, Miss Virginia Weasley," the woman smiled, reading the address label.  
  
"Er, do I owe you anything?" Ginny took the package and hefted it. It was sort of heavy, but didn't feel solid.  
  
The post woman assured her that postage had already been paid and Ginny walked out. Sitting on the bench outside the building, Ginny huddled deeply into her heavy cloak and untied the string around the package. The thick brown paper crackled as she removed it. Then she gasped.  
  
It was a painting! A portrait of her! Only her head and shoulders were showing. Her hair was as it had been at the dance, and she was wearing the dress robe and cameo choker. He'd made her eyes soft and alluring, and she had just a trace of a smile on her face. Gods, she looked beautiful! Ginny turned it over and saw an envelope taped to the back of the canvas. Carefully removing it, she balanced the painting on her lap and ripped open the letter. Just a few words, but enough.  
  
'For Ginny, What I see when I close my eyes. Draco'  
  
He'd dated and signed it. Ginny looked at the painting again, the silly grin still plastered to her face, and started crying. 


	5. Chapter 5

All the good stuff belongs to JKR, like characters, magic, etc. Plot, story, spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, bad dialog is mine. (iActually, I rather liked this one. No accounting for taste.i)  
  
A/N: Okay, okay, a bit predictable, but I have to admit that I don't feel up to writing anything about the final encounter with Voldemort other than briefly alluding to it as I have in a few (three, I'm told) of my other stories. That is why I never touch the years between when D graduates (or gets kicked out or quits or whatever) and when they 'serendipitously' meet several years later. (Thanks, Katy) Anyway, for better or worse, here is the 'rest of the story'.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
"Good-bye, Narcissa," Ginny called, waving at the woman who had just left her side. "See you next week!"  
  
Narcissa Malfoy turned and gave Ginny a brief, sad smile and waved back. Ginny watched her disappear into the crowd, then turned back to her office building. She and Narcissa Malfoy had been meeting every so often for lunch for about the last two years. Ever since Draco had dropped off the face of the earth.  
  
Ginny had kept in touch with him for some time after he left Hogwarts. He had only attended Durmstrang for a few months before dropping out and taking his mother to Europe. He'd never told her exactly why his mother had left his father, but had gathered that it had a lot to do with Lucius Malfoy's obsessive dedication to that vile creature everyone had been afraid to name. She also gathered that Draco had decided not to follow his father, but to work for the Ministry of Magic in some secret capacity. He'd written fairly regularly at first, telling her about his mother and the unclassified things he was involved in, and then the letters had come farther and farther between. Finally, his letters had stopped coming. She'd been saddened, but had been realistic about it. Why would he still want to correspond with someone he really barely knew? Besides, he was involved with some highly dangerous work and couldn't be expected to keep in touch with her at the risk of endangering himself, right?  
  
That he worked against Voldemort had surprised her. She knew about his work because her father had been astounded that a Malfoy was actually on their side. He hadn't divulged the nature of Draco's work, either, but obviously it was hazardous. She remembered Ron scoffing about it.  
  
He'd been leaning back on a chair, at the kitchen table in the house in the Burrow. Several of the Weasleys had gathered for a family visit and they'd been discussing about the ongoing fight against Voldemort. Ron was balancing on two legs of the chair, casually offering his unwanted opinion. "The Ministry doesn't honestly trust that slimy ferret with anything important, do they?" he'd sneered.  
  
Without warning, Ginny had stood and shoved him, causing him to overbalance and land flat on his back. "You don't even know him," she'd seethed. "Don't judge until you have the facts!"  
  
Of course he and the rest of the family had been flabbergasted. Ginny had been very careful to keep any rumour of her dealings with Draco from her brother's ears and he was understandably confused by her reaction. But she wouldn't explain and they'd finally dropped it, thinking it was more of her 'all Slytherins aren't evil' nonsense. Ron was careful about what he said in front of her since, though.  
  
However, it had been some time since Ginny had heard from Draco. If she wasn't actually 'waiting' for him, she had been at least sort of unavailable. Not that she pined for him. She still saw her friends from Hogwarts, even though Vi had married her Slytherin and Jess worked for the Daily Prophet and now traveled a great deal. And Ginny did date, once she decided that Draco had finally forgotten all about the silly sixteen year old he'd known. She had dated a few men, one or two a bit more seriously than the others, and had had sex a few times. It hadn't been what she'd expected. She couldn't help wondering if it would have been better, more exciting and fulfilling if it had been Draco, but she'd probably never know. Maybe it had just been the attraction of being with a 'bad boy' that had made their encounter with him seem so exciting. Maybe it was the old wheeze about 'forbidden fruit'. Whatever it was, Ginny figured that the kisses she'd shared with Draco just seemed more passionate because her memory was skewed by time. That the men she had dated were a bit dull in contrast didn't stop her from dating, but she didn't go out all that often. But it was on one of her dates that she'd run into Narcissa Malfoy.  
  
She and her date, a man she worked with, had gone to dinner in a small, out of the way restaurant. The food was decent, the conversation boring, and her date, frankly, somewhat sleazy now that he was away from work. Ginny had been trying to figure a way to end the evening quickly when she'd noticed a woman huddled in a corner booth, apparently crying. She'd been shocked when she realized the woman was Narcissa Malfoy, and even more shocked to see how exhausted and haggard the woman looked. Her date was uninterested in the mother of a long-lost boyfriend. He seemed much more interested in trying to grab her thigh under the table. Ginny had been losing patience with him anyway, but when he grabbed her in a most private and inappropriate place, she stood and slapped him. Digging some money from her purse, she threw it on the table and stalked toward Narcissa's booth.  
  
She had introduced herself as an old friend of Draco's and asked if she could help. The older woman had been reticent at first, but had finally opened up. Draco, the only family she had left, was missing. No one at the ministry would help her. She didn't even know where to turn. Ginny had soothed her and promised to help out. Her father might be able to get more information, and she would ask. She'd been about to leave when the woman had said pitifully, "I don't have anything of his, anymore! Lucius destroyed everything!"  
  
Ginny had gone home that night after finding out where Narcissa was staying. She'd sent a quick note to her father, then had removed the painting Draco had made of her from the wall. Turning it over, she pulled an old, dog-eared sketchpad from where it was taped to the back. Smiling at her memories, Ginny opened the pad to her favorite drawing, the one showing Draco holding her. After studying it a moment, she sighed.  
  
"It would have been nice, wouldn't it?" she asked the empty room.  
  
Then she opened it to the first page. Narcissa's picture was still in good condition since Ginny seldom looked at it. With another smile, she carefully pulled the page out. She would have it mounted and framed and then give it to Draco's mother. Then the woman would have something of her son's.  
  
Afterward, Narcissa had insisted on taking Ginny to lunch. She was surprised to learn Ginny's last name, and even more surprised to find out that Ginny was the girl her son had told her about when he'd taken her to France. She had been determined to like that girl, whoever she was, but she confessed that she was glad Ginny was who she was. She'd been dreading the possibility that she might have to welcome a disgustingly sweet Hannah Abbott type to her bosom. Their lunches became a regular thing, with Ginny giving Narcissa whatever updates her father could come across. Although it wasn't much, it gave the woman hope. Narcissa had pulled herself together and gotten on with her life. She kept in touch with Ginny, though, and kept Ginny in touch with what was going on.  
  
As Ginny entered her office, she sighed. There had been little to report to Narcissa lately. Draco was missing in action and probably dead as far as the Ministry was concerned. They were calling his case closed, according to Ginny's dad. And the poor woman had so little left, Ginny felt awful being the bearer of such bad tidings. They had scoured the hospitals last week to see if he might be injured and unable to contact Narcissa, but had turned up nothing. In a last-ditch effort, Ginny had talked Narcissa into filing a Missing Person's report. She wasn't very hopeful, but she figured they should cover all their hoops.  
  
Later that afternoon, Ginny left work, donning the large, flowered scarf and oversized sunglasses she'd begun wearing after she'd graduated from Hogwarts. A misspent summer at Hermione's home with full access to the local video rental store had given Ginny a love of the Muggle styles from the 60's. Especially after actually renting 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'. She looked nothing like Audrey Hepburn, but she loved the elegance of the actress and how the woman had pulled off those odd outfits. Tugging her cloak tightly around her and giving her scarf a last pat, Ginny started walking toward her flat.  
  
After a block or two, she noticed him again. She had casually stopped to check the pastries displayed in one of the shops when she saw him. He appeared to be in his late forties or even his fifties. His robes were shabby and non-descript. He wore thick glasses and walked with a limp and he'd been tailing Ginny for the last two days. Ginny stepped into the shop and purchased some croissants, still watching the man. He had greasy brown hair, streaked with gray and his moustache looked as though he hadn't wiped the remains of his lunch out of it. Ginny shuddered. At first she had brushed off the feeling of being watched and followed. After a while, though, she'd seen the man and realized that he WAS watching and following her! She didn't have any idea what he might want, but he was an unsavory- looking character and she decided to be rather careful of him.  
  
Ginny exited the shop and hurried toward the grocer. If her larder weren't bare, she would have waited to do her shopping. She would have just apparated to her flat, as she'd done the last two days. But she did want to eat tonight, so she merely gripped her wand and kept her eyes open. The man sort of shuffled along in her wake; a drooping, tired-looking man. He never got too close, but never lost sight of her, either. Selecting her groceries and making sure she didn't buy so much that she wouldn't have her wand-arm free, Ginny watched the shop intently to see if the man had followed her in. He hadn't. He was standing across the street, apparently absorbed in the display of women's lingerie in the opposite shop.  
  
Ginny wondered if she should inform her dad; even though Voldemort was destroyed, many of his followers were still at large, trying to revenge him against his enemies. Her dad had been one of those, and the family had been warned to be careful, just in case. Shaking her head, she decided against telling him. Mum was worried enough without thinking that there was some sort of vendetta against Clan Weasley, as she thought of her family. Paying for her purchase, Ginny asked if she might use the back exit. The shop owner knew her well and told her to go ahead.  
  
Once she was in the alley, Ginny apparated to her small flat relieved that she had shaken the man following her. And, since it was Friday night, he couldn't follow her from work the following day, either. That would give her the entire weekend to decide what to do about him. As she let herself into her small place, Ginny kicked off her shoes, sighing with relief. She locked the door and placed protective wards on it, just in case. Then she doffed the scarf and glasses, dropped the groceries onto the kitchen counter, grabbed a long-sleeved men's dress shirt she had picked up from a thrift store, and headed for the shower.  
  
The shower was just what she'd needed. She felt much better afterward, and padded into the kitchen wearing only the shirt, which hung to her thighs, and a large towel around her hair. The groceries took only moments to put away since she was using most of what she'd purchased for dinner tonight. Then she poured herself a small glass of wine and put some water on to boil. Pasta with a salad, crusty French bread, and wine sounded good. She pulled out some pre-packaged pasta sauce and then went into her living room to wait for the water to boil.  
  
"Ahhh," she sighed as she put her feet up. She smiled up at the painting of herself over the mantle and thought of the sketchpad she still kept. At least one good thing had come of the book. She'd become friends with Narcissa Malfoy.  
  
A sudden knock on the door startled Ginny out of her thoughts. She jumped up to answer it, setting her wineglass on the table. As she reached out to unlock the door, she stopped. What if it was that man? She couldn't imagine how he would have found her, but she was cautious, all the same.  
  
Hesitantly, Ginny called, "Who's there?"  
  
There was no answer at first, so Ginny started to move away. Then a muffled voice said, "Horace Bloggs, miss, Department of Missing Persons."  
  
Missing Persons? Ginny's heart pounded. She and Narcissa had only filed the report last week. Had they actually learned something? Already? She quickly removed the wards and almost unlocked the door, but stopped again. They hadn't dealt with a Mr. Bloggs.  
  
"Mr. Bloggs," she said uncertainly. "Do you have any identification on you? Can you slip it under the door?"  
  
She thought she heard a muttered oath, but a few seconds later a slim wallet slid under the door. Ginny snatched it up, not too surprised to see a picture of the greasy haired man who'd been following her on the identification card. He was Horace P. Bloggs, special investigator. He was, according to the ID card, forty-five years old, had (greasy) brown hair, blue eyes and was five feet, eight inches tall. The emblem on the card was genuine; it was the same as her father's and Percy's. With a sigh of relief she opened the door and faced Mr. Bloggs.  
  
"Sorry about that," she told the short man in front of her. "Please come in."  
  
"Nothing to be sorry about," he told her morosely with a broad London accent. "More people should be so careful. Have fewer missing persons, right?"  
  
He limped in, favoring the right leg. Ginny backed away a few steps, trying not to notice the distinct stench coming from his filthy robe. She showed him to a chair in the living room and started to sit when she noticed him staring at her legs. Her face turned bright red as she remembered her scanty attire. Excusing herself, she hurried toward her room.  
  
"Sorry," she called, embarrassed. "Won't be a moment!"  
  
Ginny grabbed her bathrobe and hauled it on. She unwound the towel from her hair and quickly coiled it at the back of her head, securing it with her wand. She could keep the hair out of her face and have her wand handy at the same time. She finally slipped into her house slippers and rushed back to the living room.  
  
Mr. Bloggs was slumped in the chair, looking exhausted, apparently studying her portrait. She cleared her throat.  
  
"What did you want to see me about, Mr. Bloggs?" she asked, perching nervously on the arm of the couch.  
  
He pulled his spectacled gaze away from the portrait and focused the weak, watery eyes on Ginny again.  
  
"Can't say the artist did you justice, miss," he surprised her by saying. "Not much talent, that."  
  
Ginny bridled immediately.  
  
"He is very talented!" she said heatedly, almost coming to her feet. She clenched her fists, then stopped herself.  
  
"But that's neither here nor there," she continued more calmly. "You said you're from Missing Persons?"  
  
The man was flinching back into his chair, apparently surprised at her anger. He looked from the portrait to her and back again and shook his head. Clearing his throat, he reached into a pocket. He pulled a notepad and a stub of a pencil from the pocket and flipped the pages with dirty, cigarette stained fingers. Ginny shuddered again. There was no wedding band, so Ginny couldn't blame a wife for letting this man out in such a state. But he could be on a case right now, or whatever it was the special investigators did, she told herself. He might not have had a chance to clean up. She shouldn't really judge without facts.  
  
"Er, let's see, ah, yes, here it is." Bloggs held the notepad away from him, squinting to focus on the sloppy handwriting. "Hm, Malfoy, Draco. You filled out an MP on him?"  
  
MP, Ginny wondered? Then she made the connection. "Oh, yes, I went with his mother to fill out the report. Why?"  
  
She jumped up, seeming to startle the man. He sat quickly back in his chair again and glanced up nervously at her.  
  
"Did you find him? Where is he? Is he safe?" Ginny began to pace as she fired questions at Bloggs. "Have you contacted his mother? Maybe I should send for her! It'll only take a moment!"  
  
She hurried to the hearth, ready to start a fire so she could contact Narcissa, but a protest from Bloggs stopped her.  
  
"Miss Weasley, please! Get a hold of yourself!" he said in a whiny voice. "Someone is with Mrs. Malfoy right now!"  
  
"Oh," she said helplessly. She sat on the couch again and stared at the ministry man. He looked at his pad once more. Ginny frowned as a thought occurred to her.  
  
"If you were responding to the, er, MP, why were you following me?" Ginny asked suddenly.  
  
Bloggs looked up quickly, and started to stand up.  
  
Ginny jumped up and pulled the wand from her hair, causing the half-dry mass to tumble around her face. She pointed the wand at him and ordered, "Stay right where you are!"  
  
The wand was pointed directly at his heart. His bushy brown eyebrows shot up and he fell back into the chair.  
  
"Now, miss," he said, his voice shaky. "There's no need for that! I can explain!"  
  
"Better start talking," Ginny said sharply. "I'm not really known for my patience or my even temper!"  
  
The man nodded. "I can believe it, miss" he whined, still clutching at his notepad.  
  
He cleared his throat again and flipped the pages once more. "Er, you know this Malfoy fellow was in the espionage line, right?"  
  
Ginny nodded and impatiently brushed her hair away from her face. Her wand never wavered. "Something like that."  
  
"Er, yeah, well, seems his cover was blown. He had to disappear for a while, but his family and friends were being watched, see? I couldn't approach you until I was sure you weren't carrying an unfriendly shadow, get it?"  
  
"You mean you were making sure none of the enemy was following me?" Ginny demanded incredulously. How would anyone know about the connection between herself and Draco?  
  
The answer was obvious even before he explained.  
  
"This Malfoy fellow wrote you, didn't he?"  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes and nearly slapped herself in the forehead. Letters! Of course.  
  
"I'm really sorry, Mr. Bloggs," she said, dropping her wand arm and feeling her cheeks grow hot. She pulled her hair up again and skewered it with the wand.  
  
Closely watching her, Bloggs answered, "No problem, miss."  
  
Poor man, Ginny thought. She'd probably scared him half to death. He probably thought she would blast him with her wand for no good reason. Ginny settled herself on the couch and clasped her hands together tightly.  
  
"So, you're telling me Draco's alive? Can I see him?"  
  
"Er, well, we've sort of lost him again," Bloggs answered nervously. "And anyway, he gave the impression that he thought you probably had more important things to worry about than him. Attractive young girl like you, probably forgot about him."  
  
Bloggs was closing his notepad and stuffing it back into his pocket. He chanced a look at Ginny and slid back in the chair again. She was glaring at him with a look that should have been able to stop his heart. Holding up a hand in a warding off gesture, he said quickly, "Of course, I might have been mistaken!"  
  
Ginny stood and started pacing, ignoring the dirty little man watching her so carefully.  
  
"Stupid git," she seethed. "Couldn't even tell me to get lost himself. What did he think I was going to do? Try to force myself on him?"  
  
Humiliating as it was to admit, Ginny realized she actually HAD been waiting for him. She'd been waiting for him to come back to her. She shook her head and continued her tirade.  
  
"As though I want him! As though I don't have better things to do with my life than wait for him to come waltzing back into it!"  
  
She stopped and wheeled on Bloggs. He cringed as she poked her finger into his chest.  
  
"You can tell him for me that I don't give a damn if I ever see him again. Stupid, conceited bugger! He can rot in hell for all I care!"  
  
Ginny spun away and stood, arms crossed, trying to get her temper back under control, and trying not to cry.  
  
"Er, well, then, I guess I'll let myself out," Bloggs stammered. "Just one last thing."  
  
Ginny turned back to him. "Yes?" she demanded through clenched teeth.  
  
"Er, well, this Malfoy did give me a message for you," he said haltingly.  
  
Ginny's eyes narrowed at the gray man sitting before her. "And that was?"  
  
"Well, it was sort of personal, but he said it was very important. A question."  
  
Her heart started pounding. What could be important after he'd given her the brush off? She felt light-headed and realized she had forgotten to breathe. Taking a deep breath, she said, "What?"  
  
Bloggs leaned forward a bit. "He asked."  
  
"What?" Ginny demanded as he paused.  
  
"Well, he wanted to know.the colour of your knickers!"  
  
Ginny stared, open mouthed at the man in front of her. Of all the nerve! She pulled her hand back, ready to smash that filthy mouth! Suddenly she stopped. Bloggs was watching her intently, not a trace of fear on his face. There was something wrong with his voice! It was different! A strange, impossible thought struck her. Moving so fast that Bloggs didn't have time to react, Ginny reached down and grabbed a corner of the disgusting moustache. She yanked and had the satisfaction of hearing a healthy ripping sound accompanied by a string of oaths. She looked with horrified fascination at the fake moustache that was now dangling from her fingers. The man had struggled to his feet and was cautiously touching his upper lip and examining his fingers for blood. With another rapid movement, Ginny reached up and snatched the glasses from his watery blue eyes, revealing cool gray ones.  
  
"You BASTARD," she hissed at him. "You lied!"  
  
Draco straightened completely, and Ginny was amazed that he'd been able to hide his six foot frame. Hell, even she'd believed he was only five eight. She looked up at the greasy brown hair. Dropping the glasses and moustache, she hooked her fingers in it.  
  
"And is this fake, too?" she asked, giving a threatening pull.  
  
"No!" Draco said loudly, grabbing her hand. "It's really mine!"  
  
He pulled her hand from his hair, but didn't release it. "God, I've missed you," he breathed, pulling her hand to his lips.  
  
Ginny snatched her hand back and shoved him , hard. His legs hit the chair and he fell backward over it, landing roughly on the floor.  
  
"Shit! Fuck! That hurts!" he gritted through clenched teeth. He was holding his right thigh and grimacing in pain.  
  
"Draco!" Ginny gasped, dropping to her knees and touching his hands gently.  
  
"Shit, shit, shit!" he hissed, massaging the thigh. "God, you still fight dirty!"  
  
Ginny felt helpless. She'd only pushed him! She hadn't meant to hurt him, but he was in real pain! She didn't know what to do to help. Instinct took over. She watched his motions, then brushed his hands aside and took over massaging. The large thigh muscle felt like it was tightly knotted. She dug her fingers into the muscle, ignoring his gasp. She kept it up until she felt the spasm subside. She then massaged more gently, but still firmly. When she heard him release a long sigh, she chanced a look at his face.  
  
His eyes were closed, but his face was pale and covered with sweat. He looked much older, lines etched on his forehead and beside his eyes. No wonder she'd taken him for an older man. Even without the moustache and glasses, he'd changed. When Ginny pulled her hands away, he finally opened his eyes. She was still angry at his deception, but she couldn't resist the look of longing in his eyes. Touching his cheek gently, she whispered, "I've missed you, too."  
  
He leaned forward slightly, hesitantly, cupping her cheek in his hand and pulling her mouth to his. His lips brushed hers lightly when she pulled away suddenly.  
  
"Gods, Draco, I'm sorry, but what have you been into!?" Ginny backed away, hand over her nose and mouth. "Lord, that smells AWFUL! What is it?"  
  
Draco blinked at her, and then looked down at the soiled robes he was wearing. "Oh, yeah," he said with a half laugh. "I needed a disguise that would keep people from looking too closely at me. It worked. My mother wouldn't even let me in the door this afternoon until I took off the moustache. You didn't suspect until I used my normal voice."  
  
Ginny frowned. "But, why? I mean, why the disguise in the first place? And why make up such a stupid story?"  
  
Draco's expression stiffened and Ginny realized he hadn't made it up. At least not all of it.  
  
"You disguised yourself so you could see my reaction!" she accused. "Did you honestly think I'd forgotten you?"  
  
"I didn't know," he said honestly. "I hadn't seen you in years. Hadn't even written. I was trying to protect you. But for all I knew, you weren't waiting for me. Lord knows why you should, either. I was just the boy who tried to steal a look at your knickers."  
  
Ginny shook her head. What an idiot he was. "I didn't know I was waiting, but I was. You were the first boy to really kiss me. And, believe it or not, no one else could come close. I just didn't think you could still be interested."  
  
She looked down at his leg again. He moved uncomfortably.  
  
"What's wrong with it, anyway?" she asked, her voice shaking.  
  
He looked down and tried to ease away from her. Ginny took his hand and pulled it to her chest, holding it tightly with both of hers.  
  
"What happened," she asked.  
  
"Nothing," he muttered, scooting back and leaning against the chair. He pulled his leg up and began to massage the thigh again.  
  
Ginny looked at him, concerned.  
  
"Draco, you were limping. That wasn't fake, either, was it?"  
  
Letting out a sigh, he looked away.  
  
"My cover was blown," he said finally. "I was caught and, well, things got a bit ugly. I barely escaped, and I've been working on getting healthy again. It's just taken a bit of time."  
  
Ginny's mouth dropped open. She could only stare for a minute. Finally, she choked out, "They tortured you? Who was it? Do I know them?"  
  
Draco studied her angry face and gave her a small smile. She looked ready to go out and take on all of Voldemort's remaining supporters herself.  
  
"Don't worry, Ginny," he reassured her. "They're all gone." The smile hardened as he added, "I made sure of it."  
  
She nodded, casually accepting the fact that he had as good as told her that he had destroyed the people responsible for his capture. She looked intently at his face.  
  
"Well, then," she said, finally. "Let's get you cleaned up. You shower and I'll finish making supper."  
  
She stood up and then bent to help him up. She didn't seem to notice the way her bathrobe gaped away as she bent. Draco did, though. As he grabbed her arms, his eyes seemed glued to her bosom. She pulled him up and he leaned heavily on her shoulder, still transfixed.  
  
"Uh, hello, Draco?" Ginny grinned and waved a hand in front of his face, knowing that her shirt was buttoned almost to the neck. Whatever he thought he saw was only his imagination.  
  
"Um, it's not blue or black," she quipped when he finally brought his eyes back to her face.  
  
His blank expression was replaced by one of sheepish embarrassment.  
  
"Just wondering, you know."  
  
"Yeah, well, you can keep on wondering, lover-boy," Ginny declared, leading him toward the bathroom. "Smelling like you do, you're not getting close enough to find out!"  
  
Draco chuckled. "This will be the shortest shower in history!"  
  
They made it to the bathroom and Draco released her shoulder. Ginny grabbed a large towel for him, then shed the thick terry robe she was wearing.  
  
"Good thing its not pink with hearts and flowers," she joked, handing the garment over.  
  
He wasn't paying attention. He was staring at her legs again, his eyes traveling up to the hem of the man's shirt and then down again.  
  
"That, er, doesn't belong to an old boyfriend, does it?" he asked suddenly.  
  
Ginny frowned. "What?" She glanced at the shirt and realized what he was talking about. "Oh, no. I bought it at the second hand store! Perfect for lounging in."  
  
Draco sighed, relieved. He doubted she was still a virgin, but he didn't like the idea that she had liked some bloke well enough to keep his clothes. God, he'd missed so much, but he couldn't see how he could have changed anything. Giving her another playful leer, he said, "Don't suppose I could take a quick peek?"  
  
He was eying the hem of the shirt again, reaching out with one filthy hand. She slapped it away, none too gently.  
  
"Not a chance. Take a shower, preferably a cold one, then come eat some supper. Then we'll talk."  
  
Ginny turned away and headed back to the kitchen. She knew he was watching her; she could feel it. But she resisted the urge to turn around. She wanted a few minutes to herself to accept the reality that Draco Malfoy was in her flat; he was in her bathroom right now, using her shampoo and soap! She added the pasta to the boiling water and heated the pre-packaged sauce. Slicing the loaf of bread length-wise, she smeared butter across the halves, then sprinkled chopped garlic over the top. She set the bread to toast slowly and prepared a large salad. When she heard the water in the shower stop, her heart started pounding. He'd be out in a few minutes.  
  
God, what would she say to him? Once she realized who he was, she'd been torn between anger at his deception and relief and joy that he was back, safe. And he'd come here, to see her, almost before seeing his own mother! She tried to think clearly, but what she really wanted to do was to throw herself at him, drag him to her bed, and rip his clothes off! Which she couldn't, of course, do. He'd think she was a lunatic, and besides, they still barely knew each other. Ginny was concentrating on stirring the pasta and trying to sort out her own chaotic thoughts. She didn't hear him enter the kitchen and nearly spilled the contents of the pot on both of them when he slipped his arms around her from behind.  
  
"Easy, easy," he whispered in her ear, pulling her gently away from the stove.  
  
"God, Draco, you scared me! Let go! I have to drain it or it'll congeal into a lump."  
  
He released her and she pulled the pot off the stove. She dumped the pasta into a colander in the sink, rinsing it off briskly. She didn't dare look at him. She knew she was flushed and he'd see it in an instant. But she felt him come up behind her again.  
  
"Is it safe now?" he asked, not touching her.  
  
"Er, yes, but we should eat while its hot."  
  
Draco stepped back and Ginny tossed the drained pasta into a large bowl. She poured the sauce over the top and quickly mixed them together. Taking the pasta and the salad to her small table, she set them down and then went for serving utensils and plates.  
  
"Could you take the bread out of the oven?" she asked, finally turning to look at him.  
  
She almost gasped, but caught herself. He was wearing her bathrobe, but loosely. His chest was clearly visible, as well as several inches of his lower legs. Both were pale and well muscled, but she could still see several scars; some fading, some still livid. She felt the anger coming back. What had those animals done to him? She looked away quickly when he turned from the oven, oven mitt on his hand, holding the pan of toasted bread.  
  
"Where do you want this," he asked casually.  
  
"Er, just set it on the counter, and I'll slice it up. Do you want salad?"  
  
She was trying to stay busy, so she wouldn't cry. When she felt him standing behind her, she froze.  
  
"I'm sorry if the scars upset you," he said quietly.  
  
"The scars don't upset me," she said stoutly. "They make me angry as hell! I'd like to tear the bastards apart."  
  
He grinned, the tension between them easing a bit.  
  
"It's all right, really. A few weeks and they'll be practically gone."  
  
She wanted to cry. She wanted to turn around and wrap him in her arms and hold him. She only sighed, though, when his arms slipped around her again, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other moved higher. She felt his fingers moving on the top button of the shirt, but she didn't stop him. Instead, she covered his hands with hers and leaned back to look at him.  
  
Without the hair dye, and with the grime washed away, Draco almost looked like the boy she'd known. But the lines were there, etched into his skin by whatever he'd been dealing with for the last few years. His eyes, though, were shades darker than normal as he watched her watching him.  
  
"I'm not really all that hungry," he said huskily. "My mother fed me this afternoon."  
  
"You must have seen her after lunch. She didn't say a word to me." Ginny told him breathlessly.  
  
"I was waiting for her when she got home."  
  
Ginny was about to ask how it went when Draco slipped a hand into the front of the shirt. His mouth moved along her cheek to her jaw, trailing light, feathery kisses.  
  
Suddenly Ginny didn't want to know about Narcissa. She tried to turn in his arms, but he held her where she was.  
  
"Not yet, Ginny. I've dreamed about holding you like this for years."  
  
Ginny relaxed against his chest, curling one of her arms up, behind his head, to pull his mouth to hers. When their lips met, Ginny felt a wave of desire crash over her. Her memories had been right. He was the most exciting man she'd ever kissed!  
  
He finally pulled her around, into his arms. He caught her lips again and crushed her to him. His mouth was soft at first, but grew more demanding. Dragging his hands down her back, he gripped her bottom and pulled her even more tightly against him, his fingers kneading her soft curves.  
  
Ginny's hands were busy as well. She slipped them into the robe he was wearing, caressing his hard chest, feeling his heart pounding. She dipped her hands lower, pushing the material aside, until she came to the robe's tie. Before she could untie it, Draco broke away.  
  
Ginny looked shyly up into his eyes, even more unsure of herself than she'd been all those years ago. He smiled gently at her and cupped her face in his hands.  
  
"Maybe you should eat," he murmured. "You'll need your strength!"  
  
Grinning and blushing, Ginny backed away slightly.  
  
"I suddenly don't feel hungry," she said.  
  
But she caught one of his hands and pulled him to a chair.  
  
"I suppose you're right, though. Besides, I want to talk."  
  
She watched him limp to the chair and sit. He still looked tired, but he no longer looked absolutely exhausted. She smiled and sat opposite him. Serving both of them, she pushed his plate across to him. He started to decline.  
  
"I told you my mot--,"  
  
"Carbohydrates give you strength and stamina," she quipped.  
  
He gave her a huge, leering smile and made a show of eating heartily. Ginny couldn't help giggling. She had no idea whether pasta was good for stamina or not, but he did look too thin. After a few bites, though, Ginny put her fork down.  
  
"Look, Draco," she began.  
  
He looked up at her and she faltered to a stop. She'd been about to say something about them not really knowing each other; about having to catch up with the other before things became intimate. The look in his eyes just took her breath away. She saw sexual hunger, yes, but there was more. She saw longing and pain and even, possibly, love.  
  
"What is it, Ginny?" he asked, his voice anxious. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Ginny got up and stood in front of him. He watched her, not moving. She reached out and pulled his head to her abdomen, cradling him against her like she would a tired child. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her, releasing a deep sigh.  
  
"I dreamed about you, you know," he murmured. "You're what I see when I close my eyes. The painting is nothing to the reality."  
  
Ginny shivered. She felt a surge of emotion, very much like love, threaten to overwhelm her. She'd never, in all her wildest dreams, imagined that he would still think of her. Even though he was never far from her thoughts, she always imagined that he would forget about her. Her hold tightened momentarily, and then she pulled away. Cupping his face in her hands, she leaned down and brushed a soft kiss across his brow. They could talk about the future later. Right now, she needed him desperately.  
  
"Are you back to stay, then," she asked.  
  
"Only if you want me," he answered seriously. Too seriously.  
  
Ginny didn't like the shadows that were collecting behind his eyes. She smiled brightly and drew him up from the chair.  
  
"You look like you need to lie down," she drawled in a silky voice. "To, er, rest that leg. Let me show you to the bedroom."  
  
He followed her eagerly, but stopped her at the door. Pulling her into his arms once more, he let his hands wander down her spine. When they were resting on the curve of her bottom, he whispered in her ear.  
  
"You know, you never answered my question."  
  
Ginny frowned. What question?  
  
"Of course I want you to stay, Draco," she whispered, thinking that was what he'd meant.  
  
Brushing his lips over hers, he smiled again. "That's good to know, but that's the wrong question."  
  
One hand slipped to her hem and under it. "What colour are your knickers, Miss Weasley?" he joked.  
  
Then his hand froze and his face took on a look of amazed excitement. She gave him a playful grin and wrapped her arms around his neck.  
  
"Actually," she breathed, watching his face as he moved his other hand up her thigh. "The colour right now is non-existent!" 


End file.
